


When Curiosity Comes a Calling

by An_Ephemeral_Walk



Series: Sentient Dirt and the things within [2]
Category: Cuphead (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Other, You know what I mean, and literally whoever else I decide fits, and other things, but if you read the other part to this series, but those might meet this one, but you do want to read at least a few chapters of the first in this series before you read this, i say violence, if only to understand the inside jokes i'll inevitably throw in, it's in the cards really, like the actual devil, mythos meets sentient dirt, not the other one(s), or really any of my othe stuff, this one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2019-10-01 21:26:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17251670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/An_Ephemeral_Walk/pseuds/An_Ephemeral_Walk
Summary: Being the central zone for all magic in the expansive world it rests on, Inkwell often attracts oddities to its land. Things others have caught only glimpses of in other countries stroll out in the open on Inkwell's soil. Inkwell doesn't really care, as long as those things remember the biggest rule of them all. Stay away from its children if the intent to harm them comes anywhere in any string of thought.Do that, and they're free to ease their curiosity of such an odd mass of dirt to their hearts content.





	1. Yee Naaldlooshii

**Author's Note:**

> As it says on the tin. The general rule I'll be following for this is the myth or spirit or story has to have an illustration of the creature or thing somewhere on the internet. As in, someone has to have drawn it in order for me to write about it. Not only because I'm using the idea that all toons live on the same world, and anything drawn, while not a toon, does spawn from the imagination, thus, lives in that world as well.   
> While that technically means Bendy could run into this AU, he isn't a myth, or a creature crafted by a culture or whatever.   
> I also plan on drawing for each chapter, hence why these might not be quick to come out.

One would think, being children crafted carefully by the hands of not only their parents, but the Land they lived on, the two would be used to crazy events. They’d be correct, the two were. The Knight took full advantage of knowing the intent of those around him to try and mitigate the crazy, but he could only do so much. His brother, the Lady, didn’t help in that regard. The Lady found it far more entertaining, and though he tried to word it in a way that flattered the Knight, no one would have been fooled.

“Why would I worry when I’ve got you and your stabby sticks?” The porcelain teen in a warm flannel gown teased. His blue eyes alight with merriment only matched by his cheery grin. His armored sibling groaned.

“You said the exact opposite when we were having lunch with Mom. Thanks, by the way, I really loved how she immediately thought I was being terrible at my job.” The elder sibling hissed back, thought there was a noticeable lack of bite to his words. The other snorted.

“We both know she didn’t actually think that. It’s impossible to think that when you remember she heard about the Express incident.”

“Mugs, don’t ever mention that again. I don’t want to test the theory that saying something’s name calls it.” The Knight groaned, boots crunching through the snow covering the path they were following at a light pace. His black brigandine, a gift courtesy of Hell, ate the light of the afternoon sun. His brother beside him, dressed warmly in a thick cloak, answered him with a teasing hum.  Though they weren’t flesh, frozen soul liquid sucked just as much a frostbite. So while the Knight just had a thicker gambeson to keep his body insulated, the Lady, who exclusively wore dresses, had to rely on the wool cloak and the flannel of his current gown.

For a little while, the two walked in silence, content to let Inkwell’s barely-there mutterings fill it. Sometimes there’d be a spot of deeper snow in their way. When that happened, Mugs patiently waited for his brother to stomp a path through. Cuphead had the higher boots, and the two figured it was more wise to send the sturdier one first in case there was a hidden hole. They only needed Mugs to fall into a hidden cave _one time_ for _that_ to be made a general rule.

As the two made their way to the next town, relying on Inkwell to guide them to whoever needed help. Whether that was help settling disputes or a desire to ask a dead relative something; or help with something only a stronger, younger person could do, the two were ready and willing to give aid. Cuphead _did_ note that if another person asked him to get a cat out of a tree when there was a perfectly good officer or firefighter nearby he was going to stab something.

“That was funny though, me having to raise an entire family line just to settle a gravy boat dispute? Not as funny.” Mugs hopped over a snow mound, content to argue sillier reasons for calling on the children of Inkwell, born to prevent wars.

Right up until the two heard a branch snapping off in the distance to the side. As Mugs turned to look, wondering if it was a deer, black slid across his vision. His startled cry caused Cuphead—who’d been in the middle of stomping a path through a drift—to look up towards his sibling.

“Why is your ribbon covering your eyes?” He asked, ignoring the animal for seeing if he could move the ribbon off of Mugs face. It smacked his hand away. He stared blankly between it and his hand for a heavily affronted moment.

“I don’t know!”

Taking his brother’s hand, Cuphead began leading Mugs carefully, watching for the ribbon to move. Only when another branch snapped closer to them did he start to look away. The ribbon pulled sharply backwards, as if caught on a branch, and before Cuphead could see whatever was apparently following them, he was returning his focus to his Lady. Mugs however, did turn his head in that direction, immediately tightening his grip on his brothers’ hand, and stepping closer in the same motion.

“Inkwell, get Uncle Cagney.” the Lady ordered, head following something as it prowled despite being unable to see. Cuphead didn’t take more than a handful of second to figure out why. Though he had seen a flash of pale white fur, the animal hadn’t exactly looked normal. He wasn’t sure _what_ was triggering his gut instinct, but he was plenty aware of a very simple fact.

The Knight’s senses were geared towards any and all threats aimed at the Lady up until the threat turned to physically attack the Knight. At that point, the Knight, aided by Inkwell, would sense any and all attacks as they came, allowing him to stay one step ahead of his attacker. It was so if a hidden person wanted to hurt the Lady, he’d know before they even had a chance to move. But, he couldn’t tell if anyone was focusing any intent on him _until_ _they started to attack him._ The Lady, could. The Lady was geared to keeping her sibling safe at all costs, as he was her best defense against getting murdered or kidnapped or anything else detrimental to her health. The fact that his brother was highly nervous, agitated enough to call upon their uncle, spoke volumes to Cuphead.

He eyed their surroundings, trying to follow his brother’s movements, but what remained at the top of his attention was the fact that the ribbon refused to uncover Mugs eyes. Inkwell too, was on high alert. While Cuphead wished he could just tell his brother it was a deer that might have mistaken the red on him for berries or whatever, the odd feeling in the air wouldn’t let him. Thus, on top of trying to focus on the threat, he also had to focus on figuring out just why the thing was leaving his brother blind.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of white. Unwilling to be a sitting duck, he grabbed his brother’s hand, and began leading them to a denser part of the forest. Inkwell would be able to shield them with the trees, a far better option than heading out into the open where he’d have to draw out a box to get Inkwell to build up stone walls rather than simply mush a bunch of trees together. He used his brother’s movements to keep away from the thing in the woods.

Without any idea as to how far away their uncle was, he had to improvise. It didn’t make him feel any better as he began to catch more and more flashes of fur, but what truly unnerved him was the fact that the thing he’d spot was constantly shifting. First it was a deer’s leg, then it was the tail of a wolf, then the body of a coyote. It wasn’t hard to guess the thing was a shape-shifter, but they’d seen a few of those before. Most of them had understood rather quickly that mimicking the brothers was highly ill advised. If the people didn’t go after them for the transgression, Inkwell would. Inkwell, that was a massive chunk of sentient dirt with terrible sense of size. There were stories of entire towns being buried or crushed or heaved high into the air. Stories, not rumors.

Cuphead hoped this one would get the same message, or trip up long enough for him to draw the line to get Inkwell to send it on a one-way ticket to space. Inkwell wouldn’t do anything until they gave it the signal, far too afraid of catching them in the crossfire as it had done before.

Finally, he reached a dense enough area that even the sunlight was struggling to get through the canopy.  Mugs continued to follow the thing, and Cuphead felt a trickle of annoyance aimed towards his sibling crawl down his back. He twisted on his heel sharply, his brother called out for him, and there stood a wolf with unnatural eyes, staring right into his own.

====-=====-====-====

The Lady felt something dig into his magic, the area that acted as a shield against any mental magic. Their minds, linked to Inkwell as they were, naturally gained that sort of defense as it was akin to digging into Inkwell’s mind. But the vast majority of that defense fell onto the Lady, linked to Inkwell’s magic the way the Lady was. The Knight had to rely on being close enough to the Lady to have the same level of protection she often did. So, when he felt something pry into that area, into their minds, and when he felt his brother stagger, he simply let his magic return fire.

He thought that would be enough, it wasn’t exactly easy to shrug off the full force of Inkwell’s ‘mind’ crushing millions of thoughts, billions of life forms linked up to the ground into the intruders’ brain. Their minds were well used to it, able to turn that into white noise.

But there was a shift in the air, a barely felt snap. Inkwell hummed low in warning, and the grip around the sightless Lady’s hand tightened uncomfortably. He tried to pull his hand away, and though he was able to, his brother grabbed his wrist faster than he could do anything other than think to start moving away. Anyone else, upon realizing that their sibling or friend or travel buddy had been possessed, would freak out and start trying to escape. But this was the Lady, more specifically, this was a Lady raised to put only himself before his brother and only because he could revive his brother if his Knight died. This was a Lady raised to get _vindictive_ towards active threats against his Knight.

When the stiff form of his brother began yanking him in a direction he couldn’t tell, he followed dutifully. He’d try and pry at the grip every once in a while, voicing his worry and confusion despite knowing his brother wouldn’t be the one answering. In the meantime, he got to work plotting the agonizing death of the thing attacking Inkwell’s children on Inkwell’s turf. Few people survived that transgression, and this Lady was going to be _damn certain this one wasn’t one of those._ If that meant seeing if the thing didn’t know he was aware it was controlling his brother, then that would be his first move.

That must have been the case, because he caught snickering every once in a while, in response to his increasingly ‘nervous’ calls to his brother. The ribbon remained tight around his face, obscuring his eyes. Briefly, he debated asking his brother how it hadn’t occurred to the Knight the reason the ribbon had for doing so. Then he figured his brother was probably screaming plenty at himself.

He got an idea, his second move, and decided it would be harmless. Mugs hefted up his skirts a bit with his free hand, enough to stop fearing tripping on them, and got to _talking._ Endless chatter that made little to no sense to anyone else. Inkwell began loudly responding through both of them, the fact that it took to using the direct access it had to the Knights voice and used it at random should have been enough of a warning to the thing using his brother like a puppet. The snickering died out, but the grip only tightened at odd intervals. It either meant Cuphead was fighting, or it was trying to get revenge without giving up the fact that it couldn’t get his brother to talk.

Then his brother tripped on something, stumbling forward. From the edge of the ribbon, Mugs caught sight of a bright green vine. His chatter grew increasingly blatantly threatening. He began to recount as many stories as he could think of about what had happened to previous threats against Knights. Throwing in a ‘oh but I’m sure you remember that story, right? Mother was adamant about us learning about the successes and failures of the previous Knights and Ladies!’ on occasion.

He hoped the headache the thing was likely experiencing at this point was worth controlling the Knight of Inkwell. He reached for his ribbon, trying to see if it would let him see, hopeful that the thing could only possess one person at a time. Instead it slapped his hand away. Properly chastised, he began seeing if he could force it to move in other directions. He’d suddenly pull into a new direction, as if something had caught his attention. His senses were going haywire, unable to pick up just where the thing was. Inkwell was focused on shielding his sibling from the thing, acting as a wall that wouldn’t let it destroy the true host of the body it controlled, rendering it useless in that regard.

His attempts were failures more often than not. He’d never been stronger than his brother, his only saving grace was that he, and likely the thing if the aborted attempts to grab for his handle to potentially smash his head into a tree found out, couldn’t be harmed by his brother. Of course, he couldn’t hurt Cuphead on purpose either. But the knowledge that the thing was definitely annoyed was good enough for the Lady stumbling behind his possessed sibling. Whatever the reason it had for choosing them as targets, he wanted to be sure it regret doing so.

Four minutes of various attempts at annoying the thing to varying success, Mugs chose to focus on breaking the hold. If outward attempts to get his magic to clear the threat out didn’t work, he’d do what he did when Hilda proved to be a threat. Unfortunately, he didn’t even begin to hope it would be simple. Then, the ribbon around his eyes gave him an idea, the vine too, kept that idea going.

In the middle of a sentence, even Mugs wasn’t sure what he was saying by this point, he purposely stepped on the hem of his dress and crashed hard into Cuphead. Already having trouble keeping the unwilling body moving, the thing was unable to keep Cuphead upright and the two fell onto the ground. Some of Mugs soul liquid splashed down into his brother’s soul liquid.

Almost instantly he heard the sound of indecipherable chanting, scenes of herbs he knew thanks to Cagney meant to heal being turned into harmful brews, and his brother, cursing like a sailor, echoing somewhere. He shoved his magic as hard as he could into the hold the thing had, bolstered further by Inkwell, which used him to wedge in between the thing and its Knight and Lady. The thing retaliated before Inkwell or the lurking spirit could figure out what it was aiming for. The ribbon had no such trouble, and it was possibly the only reason Mugs avoided having his head entirely shattered. It pulled him, and he followed the momentum so he was standing.

His brother was dragged underground by Cagney, that much evident based on the vines guarding against the white deer disappearing into the woods. Mugs, not avoiding getting hit entirely, pressed his hands to his face, keeping the pieces that made up his left eye and cheek together while magic poured through the cracks. The ribbon had vanished, letting a hell horse take its place beside the boy. The horse, soulless and eyeless, stared unabashedly at the thing in the trees, hell fire roaring high along its neck and back. Mugs started to move towards where he knew Cagney to be. Half blind as he was, he couldn’t really blame himself when he didn’t see a white creature dart from the trees, snatching him up faster than he could so much as gasp. He almost wished he could verbalize how not worth it it was to hunt him or his brother, or use them as ingredients in any spells, or whatever possible reason it had.

The horse, realizing it had been tricked, as well as the forest spirit, reacted immediately. The Lady, mind still torn between his own and his brothers, was unable to do much else other than remind himself to keep his eyes away from the thing. He chose to let his fate rest with the horse and his uncle, returning all of his attention on tearing the thing out of his sibling. Whatever outside magic it used wasn’t going without a fight, but what it had in stubbornness, the Lady had in wrath ten times over. He ripped apart the slick, foreign magic with excessive violence in every motion, stomping the thing out of his brother’s mind ruthlessly. When it tried to go after him instead…

It found his magic waiting for it.

If magic had a physical form, and had a city for its actions to take part in. Then what happened would look like elite hitmen dragging an overly arrogant newcomer into an alley and decorating the walls with their organs. The metaphorical curb stomping was so intense even Inkwell was a tad stunned. Mugs wasn’t surprised then, when he regained his bearings, to find that though he had been carried across something that blocked the horse from following—much to its _astounding_ anger—he wasn’t any more damaged than when he’d just let go. It had been too busy trying to maintain its hold on Cuphead’s mind to hurt him.

Cagney, slowed by the frozen ground, sprang up, clawed hands reaching across whatever blocked the horse for Mugs. He didn’t expect the thing to snap its head around to stare at him and only barely managed to close his eyes in time. Mugs, not one for being a helpless damsel, slammed his elbow as hard as he could into the human like beings’ neck, made easy with how he’d been tossed over its shoulder. His arm cracked sharply, and he watched in mute shock as his arm flopped uselessly, broken clean through. The thing wasn’t flesh, not by any means. He shot a terrified look over to Cagney and his horse, magic reacting to the break immediately. The thing must have been ready to take on Cagney, unwilling to take on the horse, and eager to make potion ingredients out of the Lady, at least Mugs guessed that was the case. Because the arrogantly malicious grin it sent back Cagney’s way spoke _volumes_.

But Mugs magic had gone through healing his face, fixing the possession, calling Cagney despite telling Inkwell to handle that, and now this, and it was starting to wear thin with so much concentrated use. Still, if he couldn’t even make it notice the fact that he’d hit it, he figured he still had one trick under his sleeve.

====-====-====-====

The great news about being the sort of creature it was, was that indeed, its durability skyrocketed. It was near impossible to kill without a very specific piece of knowledge. The downside, which had never actually _been_ a downside before, was that in order to shift, it needed pelts. It also needed various living things to make various ailments to get even more pelts and hunt. Now, this had never been a downside, because it had never run into someone who had the magic the Lady did. Namely, resurrecting a veritable graveyard of victims.

Needless to say, it had no way of expecting the hundreds of creatures it had offed to rise from the ground or burst out of the skin covered house.

====-====-====-====

It was much less of a surprise to the Lady to see an impressive number of dead burst out of seemingly everywhere within a half-mile radius. Sure, it left him dazed and limp, struggling to keep awake, but boy was it worth it. The thing let out a comically choked noise, hold loosening enough for him to, with the last of his strength,  break free. He fell to the ground as an army of squirrels tripped the thing and a few wolves went for the skins covering it. Cagney reached for the Lady, pulling him to safety as fast as he could. Then, with the most delicate of them out of the way. He focused his attention on the thing currently trying to bat aside actual bats.

He was well aware he couldn’t fight it with his eyes…being eyes. It took control of the Knight that way, and Cagney, knowing he was the only one besides Inkwell that would be able to get to the boys now, wasn’t keen on giving it that big of an opening.

The hell horse watched in fascination as the forest spirit dug his own eyes out like they were weeds. It decided right then and there that mortals were growing far more hardcore than Hell was keeping up with.

With only his vines to ‘see’ Cagney felt far more confident diving into the fray. Though this thing was sturdy, he didn’t think it had ever come across a spirit with anger issues on top of mama-bear instincts. This creature had gone after his nephews.

It was about to learn a thing.

====-====-====-====

Mugs curled close to his sibling, listening to the sounds of a battle going on above them. He was quiet for a few minutes, letting the cacophony of hundreds of angry dead things mixed with a cackling forest spirit and a horse from hell sounding exactly like that what with the equally terrifying cackling coming from it, wash over their little space surrounded by Cagney’s roots.

He knew his brother was awake, the nervously tight grip the Knight had on his hand was an unmistakably conscious move.

“Do you think it’ll join the space program soon?” He finally asked, exhaustion clawing at his eyes but his desire to not leave Cagney or his horse without some form of backup keeping him awake. Cuphead huffed, shifting until his forehead clinked against Mugs.

“Not before they test its durability.” He finally replied, voice rough with equal amounts of exhaustion. There was what sounded like a giant crunching on popcorn made of stone above them, the ground shook, and then went quiet. Mugs felt the familiar curl of a ribbon return to his handle, and, certain nothing could reach them with their uncle and Inkwell tag teaming, he curled closer to his sibling and fell asleep, Cuphead following suit moments later.

====-====-====-====

When they next woke up, it would be held in an eyeless Cagney’s shredded palms. He looked like he’d gone through the ringer, but he was gleefully explaining how he recalled how the boys initiated the space program at the last minute before it had made for an escape. He mourned his inability to tell them how far it had gone into the distance, but based on the roiling rage Inkwell had held for it, he was certain it would be the first of its kind to reach the moon.

Mugs would shove so much healing magic into Cagney and go through so many checks to be sure the thing was out of Cuphead’s mind that he’d wind up fainting again. He’d chose to state how he never wanted to meet another one of those things ever again rather than respond to his siblings and Cagney’s exasperation.


	2. Natchkrapp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The things Norse mythos comes up with to get the kids to shut up and sleep...

It was rather late in the day, the autumn sun dipping low beyond the horizon. Being out in the rolling hills untouched by civilization beyond a few scattered towns; it was easy to look up to the skies and watch as more and more stars made their appearance. The sweet air, the cool breeze, all of it lent to a relaxing atmosphere. Especially for those who had been exerting themselves doing the necessary things to survive the coming winter. For other nations, that meant gathering crops, fortifying houses, bulking up storage areas and so on.

For Inkwell—especially after the mole people incident none dared mention unless drunk to the point of blacking out—that meant politely asking the land to not let a similar incident occur. Which also meant that people fortified their everything.

This also translated to a severe uptick in people calling for the Lady and Knight, just to be sure Inkwell was on the lookout for anything of the like. The two would say yes—because they sure weren’t going to say what Inkwell _really_ said, that would open up a whole host of trust issues—and move on. Only to run into even more people asking in a variety of ways about what potential hazards were out and about that year. This left the two young teens worn down, tired, and eager to sleep.

Therefore, with everything peaceful combined, including the added security of thick trees to protect from any surprise snowfall, one would think two very tired teens would find sleep faster than an alcoholic at a frat party.

“I think those look like a bunch of chipmunks.” Lazily intoned a cranky Knight. The one beside him equally lazily squinted at the sky.

“I…think that’s an actual chipmunk. That might be the one you fought with actually.”

“If I wake up with no nose, we know who to go after.”

“Interesting of you to assume we’ll fall asleep,” a pause, full of tired annoyance, then “We should have just kept walking.” The Lady reflected on the hours they’d spent thus far trying to find the slumber they usually did. They’d done everything they could think of for falling asleep. From drinking tea procured from Inkwell to closing their eyes and just waiting. They’d tried to count sheep but that had ended in an argument about what they’d already counted and then questions as to where the sheepdog had gone. Now they just stared up at the sky through the pulled back leaves.

Both tried ignoring the bear carcass given to them by Inkwell in an attempt to “help my children sleep, don’t worry, it has plenty of fur! I’ve seen plenty others use fur to sleep better”. Neither had the heart to even let themselves think of how the land acquired the poor thing in the first place.

====-====-====-====

A fair distance away, a hunter dazedly told his wife how the bear he’d finally killed had been eaten by Inkwell. She hummed in sympathy, stirring the bison meat stew bubbling away in the hearth. She figured it would be funnier to wait to tell him about how the animal had just popped up on their dead daisy patch a few hours before he returned home.

====-====-====-====

“Okay that one _definitely_ looks like a dragon.”

“Don’t say that, you might call you-know-who and we don’t need him accidentally making things worse.”

“For all you know, it could be the thing that actually puts us to sleep.”

“I’d sooner see if we can call Hilda and ask her to punch my lights out.”

“You’re just saying that because he accidentally dropped you that one time.”

“Mugs…that’s all I _need._ ” Considering how Mugs shoulder was resting against Cuphead’s, even through the thick cloak and brigandine, Cuphead could feel that shoulder shake with barely retained laughter. He scowled.

“I hope you get dark circles.” He muttered bitterly, crossing his arms over his chest. Mugs let out a very un-Lady-like snort.

“We’re porcelain, we don’t _get_ dark circles or anything like that.” Mugs got out between snickers.

“I can dream!”

“Not right now you can’t.”

The two continued to banter, not noticing how the forest around them grew even more silent, the sounds of nightlife dying almost abruptly. It was Inkwell that eventually clued them into their new guest. Pausing mid-sentence, the pair locked onto the astoundingly massive half dead looking raven staring at them from the shadows of a tree that deserved far more credit for supporting the weight of the thing.

Even the ravens that usually wandered about didn’t reach the size of the one in front of them. Cuphead, as per being the one tasked with poking the potential danger first in case it actually _was_ dangerous, was the first to stand. It hopped down, landing before them with a great gust of wind and the introduction to an odd smell of muted rot. The holes in its wings were only flashed for a second, but that was all it took to make the Knight feel ill. Mugs, too, felt his soul curdle a little, so he looked back to the beak easily as intimidating as Cagney’s mouthful of teeth.

They didn’t fail to notice how it had its eyes closed, and the wings had only opened to let it flutter gracefully to the dry grass in the clearing. Cuphead, unsure, hesitantly reached for one of his swords.

“ **Don’t.”**

And Cuphead didn’t.

It tilted its head, looking between the two without opening its eyes. A few minutes of this with increasing confusion on the part of the two porcelain teens, the bird spoke once more.

**“Pardon me, I’m the Guter Natchkrapp. I couldn’t help but overhear, do forgive me, but are you having trouble sleeping? _”_**

The Lady, the one normally coming in after the poking didn’t go south—or sometimes even when it did—to bring diplomacy into the room, was the one to nod. He relaxed his tense stance, letting his defensively crossed arms drop to rest against his thick wool skirt.

“Were we speaking too loudly? I’m terribly sorry if we kept you awake Mr. Guter Natchkrapp.” His tongue curled awkwardly around the foreign name, the creature smiled as best an unnatural raven the size of the trees around them could.

**“How polite! I’ll tell you children what, I’ll assist you! It’s what I do. Go ahead and lay back down, I’ve got just the song.”**

Something about the change in the air around them muddled their senses. Before they’d even had time to contemplate the request, they were once more back down against the tree, leaning on one another. They almost voiced their confusion, but Inkwell shushed them. The lack of hostility too hushed them up further still.

The creature ruffled its feathers, cleared its throat, and paused.

**“Ah, but before I do, I must warn you my brothers are around as well. You’re both polite, so I wouldn’t want either of them killing you. It’s what they do. So, if another like me comes around, do watch out for a bag or a particularly ill-tempered frown. By watch out, I mean ignore it at all costs. Now then.”** With a chipper, upbeat note, it began to sing. The boy’s, reasonably wide awake after that warning, glanced at one another in confusion.

As the singing, smooth, deep and rumbling with a sweet whistling here and there, continued, they found their confusion dying. Replaced by deep exhaustion, hitting them with the force of the Phantom Express. They both slumped down further, bodies going lax as the song continued. Soon it became a hassle, then an outright challenge, then, an impossibility to keep their eyes open. Inkwell cooed as one last kitten yawn slipped out of the Lady.

For a good few minutes the bird continued to sing, ensuring their rest would be peaceful. Then, with a pleased puff of its chest, it sank back into the trees, off to explore more of the odd land that had called so many others to it.

If the bear was no longer present after it left, no one really minded.

====-====-====-====

King Dice laid quite comfortably in his bed, ignoring the shuffling of the other in the room as he waited for sleep to pull him down. The pillow under his head perfectly fluffed for maximum effect, the fresh blankets useless to one with no body but ultimately letting off the soothing scent of lavender, the dim lights, all was perfect.

Then the roof was torn off and a massive raven peered down at the two occupants to the room. It had a very deep frown, exuding an ill-tempered aura. King Dice, rightfully so, screamed. He _did_ manage to keep his mouth closed though, so it sounded more strangled than anything else. The bird was at an angle where he couldn’t see the eyes, and as it tilted its head down, it flapped its wings a bit. Dust fell right into King Dice’s eyes and he jerked his head down.

**“Is there one… Devil? In here?”** It rumbled out with a thick accent King Dice couldn’t quite place. He blindly pointed at the other in the room. Devil, in the middle of trying to corral an imp out of the room, slowly pointed at himself, confusion clear. The bird nodded, cleared its throat a bit…

“ **AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH”** It shrieked. Loudly. Angrily. Rudely—if anyone asked the embodiment of luck staring in mute shock at his own ruined bedspread and pajamas. And it kept going too. Devil’s ears pulled back, a dumb jaw-dropped stare on his wide-eyed face. If there was ever a question as to the sound of pure anger, King Dice would gladly point to the thing flapping its wings. Over the noise, King Dice grabbed one of his shoes and flung it. It nailed the Devil’s horn perfectly, caught on it, and dangled from his head rather comically.

“ _What did I tell you about bringing weird shit back home!”_ King Dice screeched. The flare of green in King Dice’s eyes spoke more about his growing wrath than the perfect throw and tight fists ever could. Devil tried to puff up in retaliation against the screaming, only for it to suck in a bigger breath, and let out an impressively powerful caw of undiluted rage. Devil found himself smacked soundly by a heavy wing. He wound up on his ass with his head somehow under the bed.

King Dice, still blinking dust out of his eyes, cursing his lashes for the first time in his life, squinted for anything to muffle the shrieking. Movement out of the corner of his eye had him turn to spot a random skeleton opening the door. It looked at him, looked at the creature, and promptly keeled over. The muffled cursing under the bed grew the more Devil fought to get his horn unstuck from the box spring.

Mutely, irritated rage pouring from his every movement, King Dice finally snatched the pillow off of his bed, opened a portal, then stepped in. When Wheezy opened his mouth, one of the few still awake of the underlings in the shared bunk room, King Dice shot a vicious glare that shut him up. The spouse of the Devil slapped his pillow down beside Mangosteen’s, dared the other bodiless being to say a thing, and immediately went about getting comfortable.

Up above them, the shrieking continued until the Devil stopped cussing and sulked under the mattress, between it and the box spring in an effort to escape the shrieking himself. The moment he went to hiss at the creature when it started to leave, it belted out a powerful scream that sent him back under the mattress in a rush. He’d remain there for the rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't look into its eyes, that's guaranteed death. The second one is a Wütender Nachtkrapp. Unlike the one before it, there are multiple of this one, and some are friendly, others less so. Honestly I don't want to say too much about it because I described it up there, and I sort of want to encourage going out to look up these things on your own. 
> 
> But! In case you aren't up for that, there are three varieties of the Natchkrapp. Two appeared here, one, the Guten Natchkrapp(good night raven) sings children to sleep, it just randomly pops in and soothes the tykes. The second is split between two sub-varieties. Namely, one version says it takes children away in a bag, never to be seen again. If spotted by a kid, it'll snatch the kid up and brutally rip them apart. As per usual when it comes to these myths really. What's a story without a good old limb tearing, heart ripping fun. The third is closer to the Guten Natchkrapp. the Wütender Nachtkrapp just freaking screams at kids and flaps their wings until the little shits zip it due to sheer horror. All are massive too. 
> 
> Honestly in the Lady story, Wally Warbles almost turned up as one of these. Now, I'm off to find more creatures!


	3. Horror house

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A number of critters here. A group of tourists want to see the scariest ghosts Inkwell has. They're in luck that the Lady and Knight are in town, certain this means they'll be plenty safe now.   
> They aren't.

Cities and towns in Inkwell all had rather colorful histories. Mostly due to being built on dirt that could tell the builders whether it was okay to build where they did. Usually by simply flinging the buildings into the stratosphere, whether the structure had workers in it or not. The Lady and Knight also helped in informing those looking to ‘rough it’ in the woods by building a cottage or shack to truly immerse themselves in nature whether the area they chose was good or not. Most of the time, people listened, and there were no problems. Inkwell didn’t mind the few scattered cities it had, nor the towns dotting its landscape.  

Of course, it wasn’t always Inkwell that caused a building or area to be abandoned. Inkwell’s other colorful features—namely its ability to attract weird and its Lady bearing the title of the strongest necromancer in the world—often led to whole towns being hastily abandoned by those able to. Even cities had entire blocks that were fenced off simply due to how dangerous it was for anyone or thing living to go into the region. Sometimes they’d call on the Lady and Knight to clear out particularly nasty beasts, but it wasn’t often.

Some would joke that those areas were undead housing, which would be followed by jokes about location being important even in death. Really, when living in a land full of things that would give demons nightmares—and it had, Inkwell was still proud of being the place no demon really wanted to be summoned—humor was the default reaction. Those that knew about the interaction between Hell and Inkwell would blame the crazy on Hell being right below them. The demons unfortunate enough to be stuck on Inkwell would scoff, and then stare off into the void while they laid in their beds trying to shake off the idea that the idea had merit.

There weren’t always entire blocks however, often, it would be limited to a single house thanks to the efforts of people who didn’t mind having ghost neighbors as long as the bastards didn’t open and close doors like it was the most fascinating thing to do at three in the morning. Needless to say, thousands came to Inkwell every year simply to try and spot the supernatural. Not every nation was like Inkwell, and though plenty of creatures did in fact come from those areas, Inkwell was the place they wound up traveling to. Some of the less lethal ones like the Natchkrapp would gladly say it was because it was rather nice to be able to wander around without being screamed at.

No one really asked the nastier ones… for obvious reasons.

A little group of such tourists, eager to spot a very specific type of entity, found themselves hunting for the children of Inkwell. Though they came from a place that scoffed at the idea of ghosts in their own borders, they’d heard plenty enough stories. The group of five believed themselves to be the luckiest bunch of ghost hunters when word got to them that the Lady and Knight were in fact in town at the time. Deciding an extra bit of insurance would do no harm, they tracked the porcelain teens down, finding the Knight angrily battling with a skeleton cat refusing to get out of a tree.

They pulled a hysterically laughing Lady to the side to tell him of their request. The Lady blinked at them, looking at them as if they’d spoken in a different language.

“Why that specific ghost?” He asked, knocking lightly on the tree to get his brother’s attention. The cat chose that moment to launch at the Knights face, claws extended. It didn’t expect a tree branch to smack it out of the air with extreme prejudice. The group were awed to see Inkwell in action, and even more awed to see the skeleton cat get up, thoroughly rebuffed and scolded, and dart back into the house, evading a thankful witch.

“We loved hearing the stories about them most! So exciting and creepy! What fun is taking back stories of having a tea party with a bunch of corpses?”

“That’s something only people who _haven’t_ had tea parties with corpses would say. I can safely say watching a wolf’s grandmother rip her femur out and use it to scold her for improper tea etiquette is one of the funniest things you’ll ever see.” The Lady crossed his arms across his chest while his brother scampered down the tree to join them.

“Nothing beats great great aunt Tee challenging Elder Kettle to a fight, I can still see him trying to block her ‘attitude-adjustment stick’ with his cane and eating dirt the next second.” The Knight remarked, brushing a few leaves off his sleek, black brigandine.  

“Please? We really want to get a few pictures to show off, surely with you there it’ll be fine?” The bunny with the rather compact looking camera clutched tightly in her hands begged. The siblings looked at one another, and with a shrug, the Lady gestured for them to lead on.

Though the Lady could bring back the dead, the moment they did, the spirit would be bound by a set of rules. The biggest being it could pose no threat to the Lady or the Knight. This meant that, though he could have brought an entire graveyard up for them, the spirits would be docile, if a bit cranky and rude. There’d be none of the activity the quintet wanted unless the spirits happened to be particularly salty towards one another.

The bone feud between the Walt’s and the Fleisher’s was in the history books now. It had been gruesome, there had been chunks of corpse everywhere.

The town they were currently in was one of the older ones that had been scrappy enough to survive countless _incidents._ So the children of Inkwell weren’t particularly excited to see the chosen house. Some of the people wandering around who spied the group going towards the edge of the village even stopped the group to express their worry.

“Lady Inkwell, I hope you aren’t aiming to do anything other than add that house to the space program!”

“Sir Knight, it’s unwise to let your Lady anywhere near the door to that place, we haven’t been able to check on the wax seals in a little while!”

“Y’all serious? Y’ just gonna walk your asses into the single house this side of Inkwell that actually chased out the last Lady who tried putting the things in there to rest? Blink twice if they holding you hostage.”

“You best not enter that house. That damn thing had the misfortune of being owned by a collector of hostile ghosts. Once watched him crack open a box and the entire fireplace got ripped right out of the wall. What do you think it’ll do to our fragile Lady?”

“Hey ma! Get the popcorn! Another Lady goin for round two with the House o’ Cranks!”

The siblings grew less sure as more villagers began to offer up other options. One bird even tried to entice the quintet to settle for her antagonizing her dead great grandfather until he followed through with his promise to return from the dead. The quintet was not deterred, and as the Lady didn’t exactly want to throw them to the lions den, the duo followed behind.

“If we don’t go, who’s going to close the door when they inevitably get dragged in?” The Knight reasoned with a particularly worried cricket.

On the edge of town, surrounded by a fence marked with so many wards, charms, signs, and sigils it made the fence look more like an art installation than a marker for the property, sat the house. According to Earl the spoon, the house had been built over a thousand years ago and promptly built up and expanded on by the family through the centuries until it became the mansion it now was. Labyrinth-like hallways, numerous rooms, even a basement, all added as well as the various _things_ that now sat trapped within the house thanks to the seals. Earl gladly told them that the family had always been one of the more eclectic sort, doing odd things simply to see what would happen. The last occupant of the house had been driven to go about building the first ghost fighting ring. At least, that’s how Earl described it.

“Plum violent lurkers in there. Don’t know what kinda fancy picture yer hopin’ for but it won’t be worth it. We’d be more oblidged if you just sent it up into the clouds.” Earl gestured to a deep gouge in his pot-belly. “Got it ‘bout ten days ‘fore things went sideways. Haven’t gone back in the five hundred years its sat like that. Don’t even want t’ reseal it! Y’d be better off jus’ findin’ some other house. Try my Nana’s! She got enough ex-husbands buried in her garden fer one of em t’ be willing t’ give you a fright!”

The quintet politely declined, the fox pulling the bunny away when Earl stumbled drunkenly in their direction. Earl squinted at them, and turned his attention to the Lady and Knight, both of whom were looking up at the patchwork house in clear curiosity. Well, the Lady was, the Knight was trying to figure out the lock on the gate.

“I bet we could just tie a string to the door handle, open it up and stay behind the fence while you get your pictures and send the house packing right after.” The red cup mused, clearly gauging the distance between the front door and the gate.

“Nah, we ain’t touched them markin’s in _years_. Probably wouldn’t do much good. ‘s why we sealed the house up. Probably more wax on there than paint!”

“Well, it’ll be fine! Besides, with all these warnings, it sounds less like a ghost and more like a family with anger issues you’re all too ashamed of!” A human remarked, he seemed the most eager to go in, using the fence as a seat. The Lady and Knight glanced at one another as Earl reared back as if slapped.

“Well don’t let me stop you then! But how about you leave our Lady out of it! If it did _this,_ ” He sharply gestured to his abdomen again, “What d’ya think it’ll do to him? Or you! I’m tellin’ ya, there be all manner of angry things lurking in that there house. But go ahead! None of us’ll stop ya!” He stomped away after his outburst, leaving the quintet to quietly whisper amongst themselves. Finally, the bunny was the one to hop over the gate and start for the door, leaving the fox to hastily yank open the gate, breaking the weakened lock off entirely.

The Knight paused a moment to silently chat with his sibling before ultimately following the group in. The Lady followed a moment after, taking reassurance in Inkwell pointedly shaking the surrounding land, clearly indicating it was ready to go in the event they needed quick defense. He figured even if the things were hostile, he’d have the strength to wrangle them with his magic if needed. Though the dead of Inkwell generally knew attacking the Lady was not only frowned upon but suicidal, it didn’t mean every one of them followed that rule. If he didn’t revive them himself, they were perfectly capable of throwing things at him or his brother or trying to attack them. Especially the ones not born on Inkwell.

If the things were outside, he wouldn’t have had a single reservation about interacting with bound ghosts. Inkwell would be more than capable of crushing the things at the draw of a line. But indoors meant they would be harder to feel, and harder to find. Even so, he really couldn’t just leave a group of people to the mercy of one of the numerous sealed houses of Inkwell. Not without feeing a smidge guilty or worrying about the things inside getting outside to torment the town. It was always a major fear for many towns, not enough to outright get rid of the home of course. None but Inkwell and its children had the power to do so, and often it was seen as too much of a hassle when the problem could be shoved under the proverbial bed and ignored.

So much as Mugs would have preferred to avoid the house, he found himself entering the premise, following behind his brother. The house was an odd mix of cared for and abandoned. Paint was all but faded, flaking heavily in places, entirely gone in others.  The exterior walls were old, but none were particularly rotten or broken. Some were clearly replaced by the townspeople in an effort to keep as few exits to the house as possible. Even the roof looked newer than even the roofs of nearby houses. The patio was clean swept up until the door and the immediate vicinity. Then, that was when the wax became perfectly visible.

Thick layers of wax with the blurry shadows of paper embedded underneath lining the doorway. Heavy drips coated the door to the point where the original door was impossible to see. The windows to either side of the door were equally shrouded in wax. The group circled the property, trying to figure out just how big the house was before they entered it, and trying to spot any entries forgotten. They weren’t too keen on hacking through centuries of wax if it could be avoided. The house was tall, easily three stories, and it took a healthy bit of walking to fully circle the property. Eventually they settled on the basement entrance.

That door had the least amount of wax, and the bear clawed through the thinner layers within two minutes.

“Why don’t we just try and clean off one of the windows and you take a picture that way? I’m sure something would be plenty eager enough to jump scare you. Ghosts like doing that for some odd reason.” Mugs pointed at the kitchen window, coated in wax as it was—along with all the others—it was as see-through as the doors. The most any had seen while circling the home was what looked like a silhouette on one of the upper story windows. But no one else could quite say they saw the same, so they’d moved on.

“Lady? You aren’t nervous are you? Don’t you deal with death all the time?” The fabric doll teased, nudging the Lady with his plush elbow. The Knight shot him a dirty look.

“Of course not, I’m just trying to figure out a less risky option. Even if it turns out to be angry hermits, it’s still dangerous to trespass.”

The bunny elbowed the doll, shooting him a warning look.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine! You can just scare em away with that magic you got if needed, right? And we saw that tree help out with the cat, surely it can do that to anything that jumps out at us?” The bear remarked, heaving his back into lifting the old door. The moment it broke free of the remaining wax, a cold breeze spilled out of the stairwell leading down into pitch black. Cuphead didn’t miss how his brother immediately turned two shades paler, and put himself before his brother.

The group stood at the open entrance for a few minutes, the bunny snapped a quick photo. It was the human who stepped in first, testing the stairs carefully before going further in. He had a flashlight in one hand, pointing the beam ahead of him. The bear followed, easing his way down far more carefully than the human due to his weight. Then it was the bunny, then the doll, and finally the fox. Cuphead followed after them, with Mugs hesitantly following after. The Lady nervously pulled at the black ribbon around his handle, taking comfort in the underlying heat the ribbon gave off seeping through the fabric of his glove.

Normally he’d be far less anxious, only, it wasn’t just him and his brother entering a den of guaranteed hostile creatures. He had to worry about the others quietly talking to one another ahead of his sibling. If it had been just him and Cuphead, he’d probably have been the one leading the way, confident in his ability to handle whatever lurked in the depths. That, and confident of his reflexes, their mother had _not_ held back when raising the two. Even so, the moment his heel connected to the wood of the stairs, he felt an odd sensation creep down his soul. Glancing back out the entrance, he wondered if they should go back to try and find a way to keep the door open. He didn’t think the town would lock him and Cuphead in, but he didn’t want to imagine what the things definitely bound to the house would do.

Then the doors were slammed shut and Mugs only avoided falling down the stairs by his brother’s equally fast reflexes and steady stance. The group, each holding a flashlight minus the bunny, reacting in varied ways. The human and bunny shrieked in surprise, the fox and bear jumped, and the doll moved back up to take a look at the doors. When he tried pushing them open, the doors didn’t even budge. Cuphead snorted.

“Oh no, the exit is sealed! Guess the countless windows will have to do…”

“Brother, that would leave the house entirely unsealed. Do you really think the town will take kindly to that?”

“They won’t have much to worry about considering this place is going to join the space program once we’re done.” Cuphead shrugged loosely, oozing confidence, enough to soothe the group less used to interacting with the dead. Mugs sighed, taking far more comfort in his brother’s sure attitude than he cared to admit. He sent a pulse through the home, a habit of every Lady to test the waters of a potential interaction. What he didn’t expect, or rather, what he’d been hoping wouldn’t happen, did. The entire house seemed to let out a great groan, dust raining down from the ceiling onto the group. They hurried down the stairs, the fox nervously staying closer to the Knight, wringing her tail between her hands to keep it from flicking in agitation behind her.

The light from the flashlights cast a yellow glow, cutting through the shadows decently enough. Still, it was hard to get a good look at the basement when four flashlights kept bouncing around everywhere, sweeping across the various things stashed away. Cuphead eventually lit up his hand, letting his magic charge enough to give off a healthy blue glow, but not enough to fire off a shot. He didn’t think the things lurking would take kindly to that, and though he wasn’t holding his breath for peaceful interactions, he didn’t feel like making things worse.

The human pulled the sheet off of a mirror leaning against a bookshelf, stacked to the point the shelves sagged under the weight. The ornate metal gleamed, pristine as the polished surface.

“Oh dear! Why didn’t any of you tell me my hair was sticking up again!” The bunny cried, frantically trying to brush down a stray lock of fur sticking straight up on her head. When her reflection didn’t quite follow, she froze. Blinking slowly, she held up her camera, and snapped a photo. The dazed _thing_ within the glass staggered back, rubbing its eyes.

The mirror was promptly covered back up, and all agreed to avoid it from then on. Pushing on, since the quintet wanted sure proof of their excursion rather than a funky mirror creature, they made their way through the basement. Cuphead kept himself behind his brother, knowing full well the many stories of ghosts going for the person in the back of any groups. They made sure to stay with the group as well, with Mugs trying to pinpoint why the sinking sensation in his soul had only grown the more they traveled into the house.

====-====-====-====

Inkwell squinted at Hell.

“ _Again?_ ” It hissed.

“ **Oh no, you aren’t pinning this one on me! I have nothing to do with anything in there!”** Hell snapped back, giving off the impression of someone crossing their arms defensively across their chest with its tone alone.

“ _The demons I know for a fact are in there say otherwise.”_

**“Yeah? Well what do you want me to do about it! The kids have my gifts, if anything happens, they’ll be just fine! Those others won’t but I don’t think you care about that.”**

“ _If my children die I’m coming after you.”_

**“I don’t think death is that suicidal...”**

====-====-====-====

The basement was near full to bursting with all sorts of items from places the group had never even seen. Pointedly, no one touched anything, not after the mirror incident. The human and doll lead the way, their smaller frames ensuring nothing would be obscured too badly from the others. The bear stayed just ahead of the Lady and Knight, and the other two fell in between. The bunny would take photos here or there, cheerfully gesturing to a full pouch on her side with what the brothers assumed was more film. She couldn’t know if anything showed up on the camera until they developed the film, but she told them she was fairly confident she’d catch anything if it showed up.

Once they reached the other set of stairs leading up to the main house, they quickly decided that the Knight should lead the way. Mostly due to the brown stains leading up said stairs, looking suspiciously like dried blood. Mugs got the feeling the wax on the basement door was thinner, not because the townspeople didn’t show it the same attention they did the other entrances but for _other_ reasons. Other reasons that were currently following them up the stairs, minding the creaks and groans the stairs let out when the heavier ones stepped down on them.

Cuphead, never one to give any creepy atmosphere the upper edge, carefully twisted the handle, and then kicked the door open as hard as he could. There was a loud thud, and a wheeze, followed by hasty scampering. No one moved.

“What? It’s effective!” He said in answer to the disbelief on the groups faces. His brother, plenty used to Cuphead’s antics, pushed forward. Intent on speaking to whatever was in the home, hoping that asking politely for a photo or two would be an option. He hadn’t even taken a single step beyond the doorway before a skeletal creature descended from the ceiling, directly in front of him. No one blamed him for immediately smacking the thing clear across the face. Mostly because they were too busy watching the head vanish from the shoulders, knocked off by the slap.

The bunny snapped a quick photo. The little flash bulb lighting up everything in a far brighter light than the flashlights for a split second. The entire thing vanished from sight immediately after. The rest of the group either screamed or turned to go back down the stairs. Not a shred of disbelief to be seen on any of them. Escaping back into the basement proved to be impossible however, what with the black, shadowy mass, crawling brokenly up the stairs. Despite having no discernable features, the limbs alone—bent at impossible angles—were enough to send the human sprinting up the stairs into the hall. Everyone else followed quickly behind, barely slamming the door shut on the thing before it reached them. It did manage to scratch the bear’s leg.

====-====-====-====

The basement door made no movement after it was hastily shut, the group stood in the hall for two minutes, taking full stock of their situation.

“Well!” Mugs cheerily clapped his hands. “I’m sure the photo you took is plenty enough right?” The bunny wheezed.

“Are you kidding?” She squeezed out, body shivering enough to rattle the table she leaned against. “First true ghost we ever see, and you smacked it!”

“What _else_ was I going to do?” The genuinely curious tilt to the Lady’s head seemed to help her and the rest finally ease their tense bodies. The bear checked his scratch, sighing in relief at the barely there red line. His fur had been enough to protect him. “Really though, I don’t recognize that sort of ghost. I strongly advise we smash a window and get out before either it or the rest of the house get bored and come after us.” As he spoke, Mugs sent another weak pulse of magic through the house, hoping to get a sharper image of the things lurking in the dark home.

To their left and right laid the rest of the house. They could see the front entrance far down to the left, with bare hints of light from the wax coated windows offering little—if any—clue as to what sat in the darkness near the entrance. The wooden floors below them were heavily streaked with stains. Drag marks and drip marks marred what had been gorgeous maple.

To their right was what must have been the guest area or the dining area. The entire house was dark, thick with dust, the air heavy and cold. The two most used to such environments seemed to be taking note of the various pathways more than the trinkets and furniture. The rest did, shuffling away from the door once they decided it was safe. No one was volunteering to open the door back up either, so it was their only option anyway.  The human lead the way once more, taking them towards the left.

He tested the door, not expecting much, and being unsurprised when it didn’t even budge. It appeared as if the town or owners had poured metal into the locking mechanism, ensuring it would never open up again. Scoffing, he turned the flashlight to face the windows, knocking on them. Everyone winced at the heavy thudding, clear proof the windows weren’t as fragile as first thought.

Mugs, who’d been in the process of examining what looked like a coat closet across from the front door, ignored the light tug on one of his gown’s ribbons, assuming it to be his brother. He glanced over, and frowned. His brother was across the entrance, scratching at one of the windows with his dagger. The Lady turned to where the tug had come from, thinking it would have been one of the quintet. There was nothing there however, everyone was far too far away to reach the ribbon. He sighed, well aware of the many antics ghosts loved to pull. He had no doubt if he turned back around a face would be waiting to spook him.

He reached for Inkwell, sure it would find the current situation funny, or perhaps get it to rip the house in half. Only, there wasn’t anything there. Getting horrifying flashbacks to the Honeycomb Herald incident, he started to call for Cuphead, cold dread coiling in his soul. He didn’t get the chance, the ribbon on his handle jerked his head to one side. He let out a startled gasp, stumbling in the direction it pulled right as his brother looked back at him.

They should have expected the dagger to go through the white figure who’d been reaching for Mugs straw. Mugs kept moving back, lighting crackling down his arms, into the floor, illuminating the area in vivid green. The thing vanished, chased away by the magic rather than the dagger that had sailed harmlessly through. He stumbled into the doll, apologizing hastily, more focused on getting Cuphead to notice the lack of their land’s presence.

Cuphead went to retrieve his dagger, yanking it out of the banister with little care, intent on checking on his brother instead.

“Cuphead, where’s Inkwell?” Mugs interrupted his Knight, brushing off the worried hands awkwardly patting his shoulder. Cuphead locked up, and then his face went into his hands so he could angrily rant into his gloves. The group looked on in confusion, inching closer to one another.

“No Inkwell means I’m running on my own magic. It also means neither of us have the added senses Inkwell gives us. We can’t stay is what I’m saying. So who’s up for breaking windows!”

The bear hesitated only a moment to pick up a nearby hat rack, swinging it as hard as he could into the closest window. The metal didn’t so much as leave a scratch. The human threw his shoulder into it next, bouncing off harshly, caught by the fox and bunny. The doll started to observe the parlor to the left, peeking in to try and find an alternate exit.

“There was a back door too, and the kitchen window looked pretty thinly covered, we can try there.” He finally spoke up, not waiting for the others before he started down the hall. The bunny followed immediately after, but not before snapping a quick photo of the parlor. Everyone else followed, with the Knight staying almost pressed up against the Lady’s side, far more tense now that he had no real way of knowing when something was targeting his brother.

“This place is huge…” The bear mumbled, eyeing the staircase leading up, staying far from the basement door as they passed it again. The bunny dropped back until she was keeping pace with the Lady and Knight.

“What do you think about these ghosts?” She asked, fingering the camera’s smooth frame, ever ready to take another shot.

“I don’t recall those being in any of the books we studied, do you?” Mugs turned to his brother, heels making a sharp clacking sound with every step. Cuphead shook his head, frowning.

“If the guy’s family really did go around collecting haunted things or ghosts in general then it’s likely there are all sorts of things we’ve never heard of in here.” The lack of enthusiasm in Cuphead’s voice was readily forgiven. No one else felt all that enthusiastic either. The siblings were far less confident without Inkwell, on top of having five potential weaknesses.

“As long as the family never picked up any grudge spirits we should be decently okay. Poltergeists are annoying, but the most I’ve ever seen them do is throw things around.” Mugs shrugged, unwilling to let the current situation bring him down. “Really though, the faster we can get out of here, the better. Even if it means getting back past that thing on the stairs.”

“I’d rather smash a window or something…” The fox grumbled. Her light shook in her hands, unsteady and tense.

“I’m not opposed to finding any weapons and just hacking through the door.” The human spoke lightly, obvious in their effort to soothe the foxes worry. The bear, however, was focused on other things, namely, the footsteps that seemed to be coming from above. He debated mentioning it, no longer sure of the many jokes and rules he and his friends had come up with. Taking from the two who’d had the most experience, he held onto the human’s shirt.

The doll reached the entrance to the dining room, stepping in with confidence. When nothing happened, the rest of the quintet let out shaky breaths of relief. The relief died impressively quick however, when a flashlight beam swept across a figure draped in white cloth sitting at the head of the table. The bunny took a picture, hoping the flashbulb would reveal more than the flashlights could. No such luck. The doll, taking courage from being backed by his many friends, was the one to move closer to the cloth.

“Ready that camera of yours.” He called back to the bunny, ignoring the incredulous looks from both the Lady and the Knight. The bunny let out a high-pitched, strained chuckle, holding her camera out to focus on the chair, peeking through the view finder. Before he could touch the cloth though, she let out a scream, dropping the camera from her face and backing towards the kitchen to their left.  Puzzled, he dropped his hand away from the chair. She shakily pointed to the cloth.

“That’s not in my view finder! It doesn’t show up!” She cried, gesturing for him to come back. He moved, and so did the table.

The table was viciously flung into the air, crashing into the ceiling, smashing the chandelier. The group scattered, with Cuphead yanking Mugs back into the hall, followed by the bear. The human, fox, and bunny, all ran for the kitchen. The doll darted into another door nearby. The table landed with a thunderous bang, eclipsed only by the screaming from everyone else. When the rest of the furniture started getting flung around at those still in the open, the group was forced to split up completely.

====-====-====-====

The kitchen was colder than any other room in the house, with a fog clearly visible to the group. By now, they were truly regretting not packing weapons on top of the numerous flashlight and film gear they’d packed instead. It wasn’t surprising that the first thing the human did once slamming the door between the kitchen and dining room shut was start going through the drawers. The fox joined him, ripping open cupboards, trying to find anything that could either be used to defend or attack.

It was the bunny who was the first to notice the fridge in the corner, slowly creaking open, spilling out more fog. She let out a few squeaks, unable to work her voice. When a pale white hand flopped out, nails dripping with black ichor, she found it.

Screaming out with powerful lungs, she flung herself at the freezer, body checking the door. Emulating the Knight’s earlier kick, she shut the door so powerfully the entity inside audibly cursed in a language none of them knew. The trio hastily began tearing open doors, searching for an exit. The fox found a stairwell leading up, and no sooner did the human get through the door did the freezer reopen with a vengeance. Ragged, thick black hair spilling out, followed by a deathly white face with an ugly sneer on otherwise beautiful features. He choked out a ‘hell no’, shut the door, and ushered the two women up the stairs as quickly as possible.

====-====-====-====

Cuphead pulled Mugs into the library, letting the bear follow them in before closing the door and looking for any sign of an exit. Mugs examined the shelves, green and yellow lightning softly crackling along his arms to give him more light. Opening a door on the right wall showed them where the den was, and Cuphead closed the door immediately after, deeming it useless to them. The library’s window was large, and though there was a soft white light illuminating the wax covering it, he couldn’t hear anything beyond the glass. Slamming the hilt of his short sword into it proved pointless.

The people who lived there evidently loved collecting countless trinkets. The library was packed floor to ceiling, corner to corner, with bookshelves, all full up. A desk with a couple chairs beside it, a couch angled towards the fireplace, and a few lamps were the only things aside from the bookshelves in the room. The bear weakly sat on one chair, ignoring the ensuing storm of creaks from the ancient piece of furniture. After a few minutes of searching around, the siblings sat on the couch, plopping down and leaning against one another.

“The good news is if we really want to ruin the day of the spirits in here, we can light up a fire. The chimney is sealed.” Mugs remarked, looking far more relaxed than before. He was in his element. Creepy settings that would normally send people scattering was the norm for him and his brother. Not only that, but with fewer people in his immediate vicinity, he was far more confident in his ability to spot a threat faster. He’d dealt with worse in the Herald anyway, at least in the house, he wasn’t separated from his brother. Mysterious ghosts were far less intimidating when he was less vulnerable.

“You mentioned a grudge ghost? What are those?”

“Ghosts with a grudge. They’re like poltergeists, but with far more rage in them. Ladies don’t like dealing with those sorts because it’s near impossible to wrangle them with our magic, even with Inkwell backing up our strength. Which, I don’t have currently. I can deal with ghosts that like throwing things around to scare us, I don’t fancy trying my hand at a grudge spirit without Inkwell’s support.” Mugs easily answered, looking up at the ceiling, searching for a potential hatch hidden in the elaborate ceiling tiles. The bear sighed, putting his head in his hands.

“We should probably try to find the rest of your friends, much as I’d like to stay in one place.” Cuphead hefted himself up, tugging Mugs up with absent-mindedness. The bear nodded, forehead creasing with worry lines.

“They’ll be fine, right? We don’t have to worry about anything other than a few lamps being tossed here or there? I heard things can possess people if they aren’t careful.” He followed behind the two, grabbing one of the ribbons on the Lady’s dress. The Lady didn’t seem to mind, even offering his hand to the bear instead. The bear took it gratefully, nervous about being dragged away by being in the back but too afraid to lead he way.

“They’re probably better off than us staying in this room. Or did you forget, dear brother, about the whole ‘throwing things’ deal with poltergeists?” With a pointed look at the countless knick-knacks the Lady poked a teasing finger onto his siblings’ shoulder. Cuphead rolled his eyes, not refuting the statement, opening the door instead.

Hands lit up with magic, Cuphead lead the way, choosing to listen to the overall ambience of the house rather than call out. He’d learned early on that calling out blindly was just asking for a beat down. Creaks and groans rattled around them, all usual sounds for a house to make at its age with the lack of care it had. Faintly though, he could hear the tell-tale steady creak of someone walking. With little other options, they made their way to the stairs. The bear picked up a lamp as they passed a table, feeling a bit less useless with it.

====-====-====-====

With only a single flashlight and the glow from the blue-white magic flickering around Cuphead’s hands, it was a slower progression than the frantic running the other trio used. They bypassed the second floor, sprinting right up to the third. Too fearful that the woman would chase them down if they only went up one floor rather than two, they didn’t even pause at the second landing.

The bunny, the fastest in the group, tore open the door without hesitation, camera out at the ready. She took a picture, hoping to blind anything before it could snap at them. When nothing was illuminated, she doubled down and checked through the view finder. Spying only pitch black, she took it as a good sign and threw the door open the rest of the way. The fox, who’d managed to grab a cast iron pan, followed closely behind, clutching the heavy metal to her chest tightly.

“I’m not the only one that regrets this, right?” She whispered. The other two made agreeing noises, equally quiet. The two animal’s ears were going wild, flicking every which way to pick up on the slightest sound. The human, who wielded a rolling pin, just relied on them, swinging his flashlight carefully around, keeping an eye out on anything that could sneak up behind them. He tightly held the fox’s tail, extra insurance in case anything tried to pull him away.

They whispered to one another, trying to figure out just how they were going to get back downstairs. The room they were currently in looked more like the attic than anything else, and the trio had heard _plenty_ of tales about just how bad an idea it was to be in attics in haunted houses. They felt exposed, helpless without the Lady and Knight.

“There’s got to be more than one door here, we just have to find it, go down those stairs, and we’ll be able to find them. We might even run into the others! I didn’t see where everyone went.” The human headed to the left of the large room, looking for any potential exits. The fox nodded, focusing on the floor, looking for any hatches leading down. The bunny continued to take photos, changing out the film once. She stood in front of a particularly old looking wardrobe. Curious to see what could be inside, an urge to open it overcame her and before she realized it she was pulling open the doors swiftly.

She kept enough sense to dart back a few steps, camera held defensively out in front of her. When nothing came out, she weakly chuckled at her own jittery actions.

Across the room, the fox was pushing aside a chair to better see the door she’d found. Listening closely, she leaned in, and turned the ornate crystal handle.

The door creaked open, and a ghastly white face stared back at her.

“No.” She said rather plainly, closing the door just as swiftly as she’d opened it. She put the chair back in front of the door, turned on her heel, and walked back to the bunny.

The human examined the open wine cabinets piled on top of one another, trying to figure out the reason for having so many expensive looking cabinets and not use them. Eventually he left it to the eccentricities of the rich and, after picking up a scent of rot mixed—oddly enough—with the scent of lavender, he powerwalked away. He didn’t even want to touch the things, since, if they were all open despite some of them being in positions that should have made their doors close, there had to be a reason. He returned to the bunny and the fox at the wardrobe.

“Any luck?” He kept his tone casual, soft, acutely aware of things that could be lurking in every corner.

“No.” The bunny’s shoulders drooped, her ears were far too busy listening for threats to do the same.

“Door in the corner, don’t touch it.” The fox intoned, squinting at the clothes. “It looks like a woman owned this thing. But why would they move it up here just to leave the clothes in it too? Were they saving them or something?”

“They don’t even look to be from the same eras… look! That’s a gown from the 1800’s, and there’s a robe thing from the east. Two actually! I think that’s…oh huh…” The bunny paused, putting her weight on one leg, examining the dresses more closely. “Interesting…. He said this place has been sealed a while, but that’s a dress I’ve got in my closet back home. It’s a bit old, but… How would a dress from this time period show up here?”

“How about instead of asking questions that’ll get us stabbed we just close this thing back up and go back to looking for an exit?” The human drawled, squinting at the odd assortment of outfits. The other two immediately agreed, the bunny swiftly shut the doors, and the trio began to search again. Eventually, the fox found another door, and, without much hesitation, threw it open, pan at the ready.

The doll stood on the other side, hand outstretched, likely having been moments from opening the door. He blinked at her, smile growing when she called for the others.

“I’m so glad you got away safely!” She reached out to pat him on his shoulder, his smile continued to grow, stretching well past where it normally stopped. She had a second to see the flash of metal before a sharp agony burst from her throat. She staggered back, blood pouring down her chest from the slash across her throat. The bunny, who’d been the closest, shrieked in horror. The human broke into a sprint, swinging his rolling pin up at the doll’s arm as hard as he could. The fox staggered back, letting out tiny gurgles as blood began to fill her mouth.

The bunny caught her, ripping her scarf off to wrap around the wound, tears pouring down her face, soaking her fur. The human knocked the knife from the doll’s hand, angrily demanding an explanation right until he noticed the awkward way the doll stood, as if no longer used to standing tall. Taking the shaking as laughter, he swung again, shoving the doll back out the door and closing it as hard as he could. Unnatural laughter burst from the other side, nothing like the doll’s normal laugh. The human immediately hauled the fox onto his back, and broke into a sprint, ordering the bunny to open the door.

The bunny used the frying pan on the white robed woman waiting on the other side of the door they’d come from, bashing her nose in with extreme prejudice.

“Out the way!” She roared, determined to clear a path for her friends. She began calling for the others, one ear turned to make sure the human stayed close behind her, the other at work searching for any answers. Upon hearing a response from the bear, she bashed a tiny creature that had launched at her into the wall like a bug, anger overriding her fear.

====-====-====-====

Every window they tried was thick and impossible to break. Cuphead had even tried shooting one, just to see what would happen. The shot rebound and wound up disintegrating a table.

Mugs looked decidedly unimpressed.

The bear clapped.

The tiny porcelain doll in the chair in the hall clapped too.

It was promptly punt down the stairs with extreme prejudice.

“At this rate I’m going to have to try my luck at getting one of the things in here to get us back to Inkwell so it can get us out. Oh poor Inkwell…” Mugs sighed, pressing a palm to his cheek, gazing down the hall.

====-====-====-====

“ _On a scale of one to I hate you, I hope you choke on a peanut.”_

**“Look, I got my child in on finding them, there’s nothing else I can do, you sure don’t have the ability to drag them out of where ever they’ve been taken to. Is the house still there?”**

_“It is! And a bunch of the tiny mortals are chattering about storming the place.”_

**“That’s great! At least that means you’ll definitely get the bodies of your kids back if nothing else… why are you shaking? _Don’t try to break from the mainland! I’m sorry!_** ”

====-====-====-====

“Inkwell is probably just ranting threats to the house, it’ll be fine. We’ve been spirited away before.” Cuphead popped open another door, sighing when he only saw another bedroom. Down the hall from them, a door creaked open slowly. The bear shuddered, tightly squeezing the Lady’s hand. Cuphead snorted.

“That’s it? Wait! Let me guess, the door is going to slam shut!” He let out a cheer when the door did indeed do as he’d anticipated. When he heard the bear squeal in fear, he clicked his tongue. “Oh come on! Doors opening and closing is the most boring thing these things do. Look, look.” He began to open and close the door at his side in exaggerated motions. “Ooooooohhh~ Spooky!” Mugs covered his mouth, snickering behind his hand at his brothers antics.

“Don’t forget when they knock on the walls.” He remarked. Cuphead burst into chuckles.

“Or when they slowly move a book or something. Oh! Remember that ghost that threw a chair at me?”

“Certainly! Though, mostly because Inkwell threw its own grave stone at it in return, goodness that was funny!”

With all the joking, the bear felt himself relax, easing his grip on the Lady’s far smaller hand.

“Gee, in all the stories we heard, they do that stuff all the time, and the creepy whispers!”

“What? That? Oh goodness, nothing kills fear like corpse breath, that’s for sure.” The Lady grimaced, clearly remembering such an incident. The bear chuckled.

“Yeah, but not just that! My aunt told us a story where they were doing a reading on a morgue and something hissed in her ear!” The two boys stared at the bear, glanced at one another, and shared twin grins.

Mugs face morphed into a posh frown, “How positively rude! Hissing at someone, goodness gracious! Just what has the world come to!” He cried in mock horror. Cuphead joined in.

“Why I tell you, back in my day them ghosts just rattled chains and moaned down corridors! None of that there fancy hissin’!” He made his voice sound like an old man’s, shaking his fist at nothing. The two burst into light laughter, fully at ease.

Then the screaming started from the other side of the house. The bear was the first to react, charging down the hall, shouting back. He forgot he still held the Lady’s hand though, and the shorter one wound up being dragged behind an over-eager bear. Cuphead followed behind, more worried for his brother than the people up ahead.

Focused as he was, he didn’t hear the admittedly soft steps rapidly approaching him. Mugs, who was barely keeping on his feet, got a sinking feeling in his chest, knew that feeling usually accompanied something bad happening to his brother, didn’t.

“Cuphead, behind!” He shouted over the bear’s frantic cries, tugging on his hand. Cuphead twisted his head around, keeping his body facing forward. Confused to see the doll sprinting towards them, he loudly asked the bear if the doll normally looked so creepy. The bear, who’d been in the process of tearing a door clear off the hinges to try and find the source of the echoing cries. He turned, not fully focused on anything else. Until he saw the far too wide smile, the blood spotting the shirt, and the way he moved as if unfamiliar with how to run.

“No! What happened—” A knife, knocked out of the air by the knight, made the bear shriek. The doll and the Knight clashed, with the doll smiling down at him, a poker from the fireplace in hand. The other members of the group crashed through the door down the hall, screaming about the fox being hurt. The doll bore down on Cuphead, unnatural strength forcing Cuphead’s already unstable stance to wobble. Mugs frame was lit up by his magic, green and yellow lightning crackling in the air barely a second, and then the entire area was full of blinding light.

The doll went limp, dropping down on the Knight who pushed him aside, the surrounding rooms rattled as numerous things within let out various cries and calls. Mugs staggered back, shaking from the burst of power he lost in one instant. Cuphead caught him, worriedly demanding Mugs give an estimate on how much he’d lost. The bear hoisted the two off the ground, thundering into the only room not rattling, ushering the others in as well before slamming the door shut and blocking it with a dresser.

The fox, fully healed, and the Lady, both far too weak to stand on their own, were put onto the bed. Cuphead tore the room apart, searching for any possible threats, hands alight and humming lowly with power. The wardrobe held nothing but a lone skeleton tucked tightly into one of the corners. Cuphead shut the doors, ignoring it entirely. The fact that the handles on the wardrobe were melted from the sheer power of the magic in his hands was a good indicator as to why he didn’t find it a threat. Under the bed there was nothing, nor was there anything on the ceiling. The closet and alcove attached to the room were both clear as well. Even so, Cuphead remained anxious.

He ignored his Lady’s attempts brush him away, until Mugs gave up and obliged his brother, staying seated on the bed, letting his magic reorient itself. The human paced, checking on the fox just as often as Cuphead checked on Mugs. The bunny too, kept an anxious eye on her friend, while she tried to fill the bear in on what had happened.

“He just attacked her! Didn’t say anything, just… and he tried hurting the rest of us too! Just what happened?” She finished, throwing herself heavily into the chair in the corner.

“Possession?” The bear hesitantly tossed out, wringing his paws together nervously. The human began tearing up the room for a different reason, digging into drawers and scanning the small shelf full of books for anything useful.

“You’d think the owners would have written down the things they captured somewhere. I bet if you knew how to handle them, it would be a breeze to make ‘em leave us alone and let us go.” He stuffed his hand under the pillow supporting the fox’s head, whispering an apology when she winced. Those not exposed to magic rarely reacted well to it at first, even if the magic was of the healing variety. Cuphead hummed.

“And we were in the library too.” He joked.

“I can see about getting one of the spirits I’ve got now to find something, but on that note, we’ve got another issue. Your friend being possessed means he’s far more vulnerable now. So while I’ve got the spirits nearby blocking the others in the house from getting him, once he wakes up or I run out of magic, he’ll be snapped back up in seconds. And I don’t think you’d appreciate us putting him down like we would the spirtis.” Mugs was far more quiet, strain clear in his tone.

“How many did you get?” Cuphead questioned, while the bear and human spoke in hushed voices beside the bunny.

“I think thirty… there are so many in here brother, and none of them are happy about it. But if I let them go they’ll definitely come after us.” Mugs whispered back, feeling his magic lurch under the spirits thrashing in their binds.

“Why don’t we tie him up, find a way out of the house, and then we can bring him out and you can send this place sky high.” The human spoke up, haggard expression tinged with hope for his friend’s eventual safety. Cuphead nodded, pulling the golden bracelet from his handle to slip it on over his wrist instead.

“Just don’t ever go near any haunted places once we get out. That vulnerability won’t ever go away.” With that, the human and bear heaved the dresser away from the door. They got into position, with the bunny being the one tasked with retrieving the doll. The moment the door opened, she was sprinting out. Faster than anyone could blink she was returning, the doll slung over one of her shoulders. The pair slammed the door shut once more, and it was the fox, body weak but determination strong who tied the doll up with ripped up gowns stored away in the wardrobe. She too, ignored the skeleton.

“There’s gotta be something we can do to at least get a bit of safety. What about the charms?” The bunny pointed to the windows in the room, specifically, one of the charms that was clearly visible through the wax.

“If we knew what those things were, we could make effective barriers against them. Those charms are just general use charms. As in, they’re generic, run of the mill. That’s why so many are needed on top of what the fence has.” Cuphead responded, keeping a careful eye on his sibling for any of the tell-tale signs of magic strain. “Any luck?” He asked. Mugs loosely gestured to the door as a knock tapped against the thick wood. His magic crackled angrily, snapping back at a few of the more violently rebellious entities.

A book was retrieved, the skeletal creature alight with a bright green and yellow glow handing it over in jerky motions, as if trying to resist doing so. The bunny, dented cast iron in hand, _glared_ at it, _daring it._ The spirit got the distinct impression that, should it try to actively rebel right there, it’d get brained faster than it could hiss.

The human shut the door and the group immediately tore into the book.

Mugs leaned against the headboard, eyes hazy, all of his focus on retaining the unwilling barrier around the room. He could feel other creatures prodding at their fellow ghosts, some cackling when realization dawned on them. A dark haired woman tried freezing her way though a few of the spirits guarding the stairs, she was rebuffed by a raging fire spirt, one of the few hardly fighting at all against his hold. He tried releasing some from his hold, the ones who were ultimately doing nothing useful. The minute he tried releasing them entirely from the house, the charm all around the house blazed to life, bright white light forcing them back in.

The group panicked momentarily, fearing the worst when the charms lit up the window. When nothing but a hiss of headache induced pain came from the Lady, they dove back into the book, frantic now. The Lady was pale, rattling softly.

His magic too, felt off. Much like it had in the Herald, it felt like something was amiss with the pool of magic. Like it wasn’t all there, but also far more active than when attached to Inkwell. One second, he felt near drained entirely of magic, the next, he felt confident he could pull the whole house under his command. With so many conflicting inputs assaulting his mind, it was easy to figure out how he missed the creeping sensation slithering along one of the many lines of magic dug into the spirits around them.

Now, normally, nothing could get even close to getting into the Lady’s soul. Inkwell often acted as a barrier so impenetrable, it would have been impossible for just about anything to get at the Lady. On top of that, the Lady’s magic, tuned to the Lady herself far better than Inkwell—split between both her and the Knight as it was—could manage, acted as a secondary defense. All Ladies could easily fill novels of all the times ghosts had attempted to possess them. Necromancers in general could bore the public with countless stories about how often the spirits they raised tried to get at them too. But, being the Lady, and having a constant defense, meant that when those protections were either taken away or weakened, the Lady had no chance.

By the time Mugs realized there was something impressively wrong, it had already begun shredding into his magic, burrowing into his mind, tearing after his soul.

The air grew dense, thick with pressure felt by everyone in the room. They hesitantly glanced at one another, bodies tense with adrenaline.

Then, the Lady _shrieked._

Cuphead tumbled off the bed, knocked off balance by surprise. Magic arced through the air, scorching everything it hit, shattering wooden furiture, forcing the group to throw themselves at the barricaded door. The bear flat out tossed the dresser aside. Ripping the door off the hinges entirely in his haste to get it open, he flung the door across the hall. The bunny and fox were torn between helping the Knight up and getting the doll out of the way as well.

The house shook, furniture screeching along the floors as everything went wild. Howls and wails joined the cacophony, the glass in the windows shuddered. Cuphead was pulled to his feet by the human right as Mugs toppled off the bed, magic crackling around him. When the Lady got to his feet, turned, and smiled, exactly as the doll had, it felt as if that was the green card for everything else to come at them. Thunderous footsteps charged down the stairs; cackling, unnaturally pitched, accompanied the sounds, replacing the shrieks.

The Lady threw himself at the Knight, reaching for his face, malicious, far too wide smile etched into his features. Cuphead grabbed his brothers wrists, crying out his brother’s name even as he forced his brother away. The green and yellow magic harmlessly brushed against Cuphead. A great flood of it snapped back into the room, returning to its owner with a vengeance. There must have been enough for Mugs to temporarily come back into control, because before Cuphead even realized it, Mugs had torn his hands out of the grip, pulling up and back. He then shoved Cuphead back, which made the swing the doll, now standing, miss.

Mugs body shuddered, green and yellow flickering up and down his body angrily. The doll cackled, tearing the nearest bed post off to swing it at the group. Cuphead blocked, drawing his short sword hastily. He hissed out a curse under his breath when the sword was embedded in the post, allowing the doll to yank it out of his hands. It swung at him again. Cuphead instinctively moved to grab his dagger, but it was far too late. The impromptu club hit him, only, not that hard. Mostly because the second it tapped the brigandine, the brigandine flashed a bright, angry red, and devoured the post, flat out tearing it out of the dolls hands.

Even the spirits crawling up through the floor paused at that.

The brigandine spat out a lump of charcoal, nailing the doll in the face.

Meanwhile, the bear had picked the door back up, and was bashing a woman in a white dress with it, violently. The human was shouting at the doll, begging his friend to fight the entity like the Lady was doing. The bunny was taking pictures rapid fire, blinding the black shadow, making the two skeleton looking robed creatures hiss. The fox had picked up a piece of the chair and began forcing her way towards the stairs leading to the front hall. She bashed things in with the hard wood. Vaguely, she recalled once hearing about types of wood that could protect and defend against spirits. As she felt a skull crunch under a particularly vicious swing, she wondered if that was what the door and her weapons were made of.

Two shadowy masses charged at the Knight, forcing themselves between the red cup and the doll and Lady. Cuphead held up his hand, bells around his wrist jingling brightly. The spear gifted to them by former Lady Chalice blazed a path of righteous fury as it pierced through one of the masses. The mass squealed, trying to escape back into the shadows, but the spear shone brighter, and the light began to eat away at the thing.

Black ichor poured down Mugs mouth, running down his cheeks as his magic fought to push the thing out, enraged beyond recognition.  Cuphead was forced out of the door by the doll, who looked to be fully aware Cuphead wasn’t as willing to stab him as he was the others. The spear sang out, cutting down another shadow entity that had been sliding up Mugs leg, likely intent on aiding the other ghost within on taking control of the only one capable of healing everyone. The Lady weakly collapsed to his knees, reaching for the ribbon on his handle.

The thing possessing him must have known it would be game over if the ribbon was grabbed, because Mugs attempts were jerky and wild. The doll took advantage of Cuphead’s distraction, delivering a solid blow to Cuphead’s face. A loud crack was followed by Mugs leaping onto the doll’s back, using his weight to drag the doll backwards, away from Cuphead. The dense air snapped around Cuphead, fixing the deep crack going down Cuphead’s eye and cheek.

The doll retaliated, kicking out at Cuphead while grabbing the thin arms and twisting around to face the Lady. Another woman in white, the one who’d gotten her nose rearranged earlier, grabbed Cuphead’s handle, trying to tear his head off. She was speared without pause as Cuphead’s temper flared.

The doll, coiled long fingers around the Lady’s wrists, bearing down on the already weak porcelain boy.

“Come now,” The dolls voice was layered, thick with numerous spirits speaking at once. “Don’t you want to have fun?” Shadows cast from the doll brushed across shaking porcelain arms. Mugs, powering through the hold the spirit had on his body with unholy brutality, responded by driving his heel into the doll’s hip. The doll bent, letting out a sharp wheeze. His grip loosened enough for Mugs to tear his arms away and step back.

“Cuphead!” Mugs cried out, passing a hand across his face to clean it, torn between fear and indignant rage. Cuphead drew his dagger, aiming to stab the doll despite knowing fabric types didn’t really care if something ran them through. If he could pin the doll to the floor, he could vault over it and reach his brother. Another shadow being grabbed for Mugs handle, and was turned to ash by a bright red ribbon. The wardrobe by the entrance let out a groan as something began to push it over.

The fox and bunny, meanwhile, were making impressive progress towards the stairs, determined to clear a path enough for them to reach the lower floor. Their only thought was to get closer to the basement. The human threw lamps at anything that didn’t look friendly, and, once he picked up the poker the doll had dropped, he went to batter town. Swing after swing with the iron rod, he knocked tiny creatures from the air, keeping them away from the girls ahead. The bear took up the back, trying to keep the Knight from being overtaken.

From an outsiders standpoint, a bunch of mortals taking sticks and pokers and a door to a bunch of entities well known for their viciousness was a little hilarious. Especially when the bunny tore a small creature in two after it almost knocked her camera out of her hand. She only spared a moment to drop it down her dress front before she snatched the thing out of the air.

“Mistakes were made!” The bunny shouted, though the anger made it impossible to tell what mistakes made by whom she meant.

“The library!” The fox screamed, shoving one of her weapons down the throat of a rather startled tuxedo wearing man. She punted him over the railing with extreme force immediately after.

“Can someone tell me whether the family members who lived here are still present?!” A woman with a rope around her bruised throat screamed. The fox swung her remaining chair leg so hard she flat out took the jaw off the woman. The fox let out a war cry, ripped a table leg clear off the rest of the table at the landing of the stairs. The ghosts, bruised and honestly a tad terrified when they saw the bunny rip the throat out of another fairy, switched tactics. The bear was tripped, falling down, nearly landing on Cuphead but dragging him down with a wild swing instead.

Mugs magic coiled like a snake, pressing down on the remains of the thing within the Lady, forcing it out as quickly as it could to remove the opening. The doll went for him again, things inside unwilling to lose another victim so quickly. Especially not the one that took the fox and the red cup from them. The fox, who was shoving a ghost’s femur down its throat, screaming such vitriol it made the frozen woman take a long second to consider throwing her own weight into the fight, and then decide, no. Her nose smarted enough as is.

The Lady threw himself to the side, trying to avoid both the doll and the formless shadows snapping at his heels. Cuphead tried to scramble up, forced to abort going any further than getting to his knees by a bat creature dropping down at him, shrieking. He had to use the spear to block the thing, wincing as a flailing claw gouged into his cheek. Magic once more healed the wound before it could really start to sting.

It was the chance, the opening, the doll took. Launching at the young teen, he managed to snag the ribbon the woman in white had played with earlier. He pulled, almost tearing the ribbon off, wrapping it around one of his arms, ignoring the other ripping at seams. The magic once more burst out, scorching his fingers but doing little else. Mugs cried out for his brother again, panic overtaking the anger finally. The doll spun the Lady around, mockingly. One arm bound by the dress he wore, the other tightly clenched in the doll’s hand.

“Come on darlin’, don’t go ruining my fun!” Countless voices teased, anger underlying the haughty note. He dipped the other before the Lady could reply, letting him feel shadows pull up from the ground, wrapping ice cold fingers around his shoulders. The floor lost its rigidity, and his magic, far too caught up in burning the entity out and keeping an eye on Cuphead, couldn’t respond in time. Shadows found the opening, driving into the soul, hoping to overpower the magic. He began to sink into the shadows until his magic retaliated.

The magic let out an audible screech, rattling the entire house.

Cuphead brutally impaled the bat creature, wrath practically saturating the air around him. The spear embedded into the ground by Mug’s shoulder, driving a burning light straight into the creatures, aiding the magic. Mugs, mostly out of pure, unmatched levels of spite, fought against the grip both on his soul and on his wrist, maintaining control of his body despite the powerful attempts the spirits made. The doll pulled him up again, and proceeded to lift him into the air. Mugs replied by planting a foot in the doll’s face, digging the heel into the doll’s mouth. The doll grabbed his ankle, dropping the hold on his wrist, causing Mugs to flip upside down.

“It’s been years! Won’t you join us?” He shifted, and threw the boy into the shadows in the room. Mugs gave out a surprised cry, and then was swallowed by the void. Cuphead, soul boiling, moved to dive into the room, ready to follow his brother. The wardrobe crashed down before him, narrowly avoiding crushing him. He fell back, caught by the bear who called for the spirits to leave the doll.

With the healer out of the way, the spirits doubled down. The more ancient ones with the most experience possessing things went after the Lady, intent on adding him to their game. The others, began to tag team against the mortals.  The bear was grabbed as he was distracted with breaking the door over the head of two faceless demons. He let out a roar as claws shredded his leg, tearing apart the tendons, sinking into his other leg to drag him down.

Cuphead speared two of the shapeless figures near the bear, teeth clenched tightly enough to chip as the doll cackled. The human turned to defend his fallen friend, and narrowly avoided getting gored by a child dripping black ichor from black eyes. He struggled to keep her far too fast strikes from hitting anything vital, screaming when she managed to land a hit on his fingers, slicing two off at the knuckle. The bunny, remembering what they’d found in the book, scooped up a tiny body she’d torn apart earlier, and, defended by her friend, drew warding symbols into another room’s door with its blood.

She threw open the door to the room, hastily drawing warding symbols on the floor and the walls while ordering the others to get into the room. Above them, not truly muffled by the ceiling, the Lady shrieked.

The bear dragged himself up, bringing his teeth down on the nearest skeletal spirit and biting down. He spat bits of skull out into the eyes of the bat creature. Wicked claws managing to catch on the black-eyed girl’s hair, he yanked her back while Cuphead drove the spear into another black robed man. The doll cheerfully stepped over the wardrobe, far too wide grin stretched across his face. Cuphead used the spear to vault himself up, nailing the doll in the face with all the unbridled rage a protective brother could have.

The bear bit down on the girl as well, ripping her arm off entirely. The human took the chance to wail on her abdomen a few times until she went limp. Dragging the bear closer, he began to make his way back towards the fox. Cuphead didn’t hesitate to try and use the doll’s face to propel his body forward towards the stairwell. He shouted for his sibling, swearing impressive amounts of revenge if anything hurt his brother to the fairy he ripped out of the air and crushed against the wall. He was yanked back by the fox, who forced him back into the room with the wards gruesomely painted all over it.

“He’s got magic that’ll keep him safe! We can’t keep going like this!” She cried out.

“Brother!” Came a terrified scream from above. A hulking hand, easily twice the size of the bears, crushed the floor as it came down, hauling the mass of spirits up over the landing. It let out a low groan, black tar dripping down its ever-changing body. The group screamed, and the fox practically threw the Knight into the room, closing the door behind her. Cuphead paced, listening as the heavy breathing from the new entity rattled the door. The bear quietly sobbed into a pillow, growing louder when the bunny tightened the torn sheets around the wound.

“Don’t you worry, we’ll get out of here and someone’ll heal you right up with some of that fancy magic! You’ll be just fine.” She cooed, pressing a blood coated hand to his cheek. He nodded weakly, breathing harshly. When nothing came through the door or the walls, the group—minus the Knight—relaxed. The Knight rattled audibly, jerking his head up towards the ceiling when another sound came from above. The human, closest to the door, leaned so his head rested back against the wall.

“Any chance you can take on everything out there, get your brother back, and get back down here?” He weakly asked, lazily staring at the two stumps on his hand. Cuphead muttered something under his breath, but didn’t really answer. The bunny sighed, flipping through the book with equally hopeless motions.

“Those are dybbuk’s apparently. On top of various spirits the family just found and dragged back. I’m seeing at least a hundred marks noted here. This place probably has more ghosts than it ever had living. And, according to some of the last notes, none were nice.”

“I think I’d be pretty hostile if I got my rest disturbed by someone wanting to see ghost grudge matches.”

“Oh! That’s not listed though! None of the descriptions have any mention of grudges, just violent deaths and malevolent living turned dead. We have that at least!”

“Wheee…” The fox rather unenthusiastically droned. “They still have two of us, and, give it time! They’ll have the rest of us shortly! Who’s up for starvation or infection!” She threw her hands in the air sarcastically, harsh smile wobbling across her cheeks. The rest remained silent.

“On the plus side,” The bunny started after four minutes of silence amongst the group, “When we do die, we’ll be ghosts. And that means we’ll be just like them out there. Which means we won’t need iron or whatever to deck them.”

“Dibs on the black-eyed girl.” The human raised his head, wan smile on pale lips. The bear weakly raised his hand without moving the rest of his taut body.

“I want the skeleton things. I don’t care which.”

“If we can tear things out, I want everyone possessing those two out there.” The fox sneered. Finally, the Knight responded, he laughed.

“Oh, you’ll have to get in line there. Why, once Inkwell gets back to us, I guarantee it’ll do worse to those things than you ever could.” With such surety in his tone, it was hard to not believe the kid. The others seemed interested at least.

“The land? You really think it’ll find us? I mean, it hasn’t yet.”

“Inkwell is probably getting a few things in order before it storms the place. Give it maybe a day if that hasn’t already passed. At the very least there’s the hope our mother will burst in bringing hellfire with her.”

“Gosh! Won’t she be upset to learn you failed!” Came a familiar voice warped by others wound around it. Cuphead lurched towards the door, eyes wide. Fury blazed across his frame.

“Big talk coming from cowards hiding behind a fourteen-year-old!”

“Better than hiding behind a door, I think.” Another voice replied behind the door.

“You better not do anything weird with my brother. The grave you dug doesn’t need to go down any further.” Cuphead hissed.

“And? We’re dead, awful hard to imagine anything strong enough to knock us off this or the mortal plane.”

“Give it time, you think Mugs’ magic is mad now? You ain’t seen _anything_ yet. Bet he’ll gladly tell you aaaaalll about Inkwell’s wrath!”

“Mmmm, fun! But really, so what if we just have little Lady here throw himself over the banister? He’ll still die, even if it means whatever awaits us is worse.” There was a cold sort of amusement filtering through the door that sent shudders rolling down the quintet, now quartet’s spines. Cuphead had a disturbingly blank look on his red tinged face.

“We know their fears, we know yours! And behind that door? There’s _nothing_ you can do to stop us from doing whatever we want. Not to the doll, not to the dame. _Nothing.”_ The doll’s voice rang out, merry and chipper. The bunny stormed up to the door, slamming her hand onto it so hard it made the lock creak.

“Then come in here without the backup brat brigade and show us you antiquated thrift shop garbage!” She snarled, frazzled beyond caring.

“I’ve heard scarier threats from my grandmother.” The fox snapped, loud enough for those outside the door to hear. The bear laughed.

“Besides, if you think anything you do is scarier than what our mother will do to us, you clearly haven’t seen enough of Mugs memories.” Cuphead’s eyebrows were arched high. “Oh here’s an idea, why don’t… hey yeah, why don’t you use his magic and just fry the door!” He sounded _far_ too falsely innocent for the rest to think he was losing it by giving the ghosts ideas.

“Ha ha. Funny. The stupid ribbon is enough, thanks.” Came the rather dry reply.

“Oh that old thing? Just take it off!” Cuphead responded, still chipper, even as his hand wrapped around the handle, and the others scrambled to get ready.

“I will!” Cried the doll. Three things happened in quick succession.

====-====-====-====

**“Finally! I got good news and bad news. Depending. ”**

_“Go on?”_

**“The good news? Found the kids!”**

“ _The bad news?”_

“ **An intruder has…well, intruded on the blue one.”**

“ _In… truded? Possessed? Hm…hm. Mhm.”_

**“Uh, now baby, you uh— _baby no!_ "**

====-====-====-====

First, there was a snapping sound. Then the sounds of some unholy beast snarling, roaring, followed by shrieking. Finally, Cuphead ripped open the door, hands that had been blazing brighter and brighter with magic immediately taking out the hulking beast that had been waiting by the door, sending it flying back in a smoking heap. A hound, wreathed in unnatural fire and easily the size of the bear, tore into the doll, changing targets when it saw the other familiar face. The group were treated to the sight of a hound ripping a woman in white apart, loudly swallowing her upper half. While in the middle of the hall stood the possessed Lady, head held in one of his palms, unimpressed stare burning into them.

The Lady’s dress was torn in various places, a sign he’d likely tried to escape, being foiled by the gown every time. There were tear streaks down his cheeks, already drying.

“Real funny.” The spirits within the lady droned. The hound snarled at him.

The Knight smiled. “You’re lucky Biscuits big bro was the only thing that showed up.” Then he had to duck to avoid a hard swing from the doll while the hound took on the black mass going for round two. The rest who could move sprang into action. The bunny pounced on the doll, tackling him to the floor and clawing at his eyes.

“If you can hear me, I’ve got the sewing kit so this’ll be temporary!” She screamed at the thrashing form below her. The fox defended her, closing the door to try and keep the bear and human safe. Cuphead went for his brother, hoping to snap his head off his shoulders and leave the spirits blind. The possessed Lady rested his hands on his hips, a darkly amused look in his borrowed eyes. The coy smile looked entire wrong on the young face. Cuphead learned why it was so confident when something he couldn’t see met him a few steps away from his brother and crushed him into the wall. His armor easily took the hit, reducing the damage.

The doll punt the bunny off, missing one eye and the smile once present. A tight skinned, pale creature with a horrifying set of teeth emerged out of a nearby mirror, scrabbling thick black claws into the floor as it gunned for the fox and bunny. Shadowy hands tried to pin Cuphead to the wall, only to be burned off by the red-hot brigandine. The fox shrieked a powerful war-cry at the critter, vowing to tear its spine out and drink the fluids from it. The bunny quickly got back up, blocking the doll from hitting the fox.

The hound was flung down the hall, howling in indignant pain the whole way until it broke through one of the walls. The shadowy mass curled around the Lady, dripping maw curled in a void-black grin. Cuphead threw the spear at it, suddenly wishing Chalice had used something with more impact than the golden spear barely scorching the teeming mass of shadows. Another figure, flickering in and out of sight managed to bash his head back into the wall, shattering his handle off. The spear returned to him without him calling it, diving down into the poltergeist with such power it went through the floorboards.

Cuphead staggered to his feet, dazed by the hit. He squinted at the figure across from him.

“Weenie.” He tossed out, pointing slightly to the left of the Lady. “Bet you wouldn’t be all…tough… if ya didn’t have a shield. The fairy thing scratching at my boot is braver than you.” As mental clarity returned, he indeed realized an elf was trying to gnaw through the steel armor around his leather boot. He stomped down on it with extreme prejudice.

“If that was you trying to tempt us to leave, it’s equally pathetic.” The hound returned, bearing down on the mass, hellfire dripping from its teeth like drool. The two beings clashed, narrowly missing the far smaller porcelain teen idly standing by. When a chunk of wood broke off and snapped Mugs wrist off, the spirits let out an amused huff. Cuphead paled, recalling the spear and taking aim, forced to sprint towards the banister to avoid being smashed by the mass. He threw it as hard as he could at the mass, hoping to distract the thing enough for the hound to gain the upper hand.

It missed when the hound dragged it down by its throat looking area. Instead, it soared beyond, narrowly avoiding the bunny who was sporting a vicious new hat and lacking half an ear. The fox, being strangled by the doll, watched it soar by, into the broken room, and pierce straight through the window.

“Oh…” Said the suddenly far less confident spirits in control of a Lady who, burrowed safely within a rather terrifying amount of angry magic, was currently cheering. One of the boards under Cuphead snapped up, throwing him off, and over the railing.

Luckily for him, he didn’t really have to worry. Not when the front door was torn off the house entirely by all too familiar hands.

“UNCLE CAGNEY’S _FUCKIN’_ _PISSED!”_ Roared a forest spirit tossing the front porch behind him like it was a bug.

Cuphead was caught by said forest spirit, laughter bubbling up out of his chest as Inkwell came back to him, cursing in the way only a landmass could. He heard frantic scrambling above and as their dear adopted Uncle tore his way into the house, massive frame ripping apart the building with ease, the laughter spilled out. The hound let out a howl, eagerly stomping a heavy paw down on the mass that had just absconded from the Lady, now sprawled in a heap on the floor.

“My nephew!” Cagney’s petals flared as he grew more and more enraged at the sight of the blue child. The entire house shook as Inkwell purged every last remnant of the intruding spirits from its Lady, screaming to the thing pinned just how badly it had messed up. The doll too, slumped over, and when the spirits tried to flee, a barrier made of the same hellfire from the hound flashed into place around the building, keeping every last soul locked in.

Cuphead scrambled over to Mugs, picking him up carefully while Inkwell overrode Mugs magic, taking control of it and lighting the area up with a healing green and yellow light show. The quartet mutely watched their injuries vanish, rapidly repaired by magic that felt more clinical than before. Mugs groaned, unwilling to stay unconscious but equally unwilling to wake up fully. Only, there was a distinct memory mixed with demonic levels of vindictive glee that needed to be used before it was too late.

“Uncle Cagney?” He called out, voice weak but heard none the less. He pointed to the mound of souls scrabbling at the hound’s paw. The quartet bit back shrieks as a new figure appeared in the house, sporting a glowing pitchfork and spiraling horns, all of them feared a demon had come to aid the souls. Cagney hummed, ignoring the newcomer, breaking the ceiling to lean closer.

“They looked…at my memories.” He almost fell back unconscious, but managed to fight back the waves of exhaustion. He was on a _mission._

“Rude…” The newcomer responded even as the flower hissed through countless teeth.

“Even the ones where I was changing. And they tore my tights!” He waved his newly repaired hand over his bare legs. Inkwell _seethed._ Mugs didn’t bother to explain just _why_ the tights had been torn. He sort of hoped they didn’t find the ghoul with tights wrapped tightly around its throat up in the attic. He’d been desperate and they’d already been shredded by the thing anyway. “I liked those tights…” He finished, looking as forlorn as he possibly could.

====-====-====-====

There were many things the quintet would share upon returning with numerous photos of their adventures in hand. However… One thing _no one_ spoke of was what happened between the ghosts being dragged down by the Devil himself and the Lady falling unconscious. They’d get a faraway look on their faces, weakly shaking their heads, unwilling, or perhaps unable to fully explain the things that down in those few minutes before they were dragged out of the house by the giant flower and plopped into the caring hands of the town. Though, many would note that whenever it was brought up in a setting with trees, the group would flinch, and were never able to look at flowers the same way again.

====-====-====-====

A fishing boat plodded on, lazily riding the waves, carrying two fishermen. One of them scratched his numb rear, squinting at the motionless pole propped up at his side.

There came a whistling sound that, at first, the two pinned on the other, right until a shadow blotted out the sun for a moment. Then, a mere hundred meters away, descending in a flaming blaze of glory, appeared a house. It impacted with the water so hard, the men were nearly knocked out of their little boat. Clinging to the sides, they cowered as waves rocked their boat mercilessly.

When one lifted his head, weary and frightened, he was immediately assaulted by a fish slapping into his face.

====-====-====-====

“So! You sleazy twerps think you’re so tough, do ya?” Devil prowled around the handful of newcomers, fur flaring into hellfire in waves across his frame. The spirits huddled into themselves. “So tough you gotta make a little tyke strip, _and_ peek in on him like the nasty shits you are? Well now… normally I wouldn’t care!” He waved lazily towards the rest of Hell. The lavish setting had left them confused at first. Above them, casually examining a pristine white glove, a die headed man sat in a plush velvet chair.

“But see….those brats? They’re **_mine._ **They’re the single thing appeasing dear ol’ pop upstairs. They’re the things keeping him from breakin’ into the “miracle” jar and makin my darlin’ wife pregnant, body or no! Man’s determined to have grandkids, he’ll do it, and I’ll never get a single kiss again as long as I live if that ever happens.” Here, the other man snapped vivid, biting green eyes down at them, nothing even remotely merciful in his harsh gaze. “I don’t think I gotta tell you lot just _why_ that’s bad. I hope you’re all ready for a _nice long stay._ ” The world began to grow hotter, the air visibly warping from the heat pouring from the ruler of Hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poltergeists, plenty of people know about. They're pissy spirits with anger issues and a habit of throwing things like the toddlers they become upon dying. Frequently mistaken as demonic too, most often they appear as shadowy masses! Dybbuks, as far as I could find, did indeed exist before that one story came out. They're also basically poltergeists. They're described as malevolent spirits with the ability to possess their victims. A Yuki Onna also appeared here, because I have been dying to use the scraps of an original idea I buried long ago and a Yuki Onna using a freezer as a home was part of it. Mirror spirits too span a number of cultures, often being doppelgangers, but when there's no one to reflect, they often take their own forms. Women in white are more common in the ghost world than corpses, I swear... 
> 
> The quintet were all pulled from various cartoons from the 30's. If I missed a creature, don't hesitate to ask. this bastard is 15000 freaking words, so chances are i might have missed something while editing and typing this explanation up.


	4. Kelpie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dispute takes on a watery note.

Inkwell was a country that sat on the edge of the continent. Only two of its sides connected to the mainland, and only barely. On one side, a mountain range mixed with a river deep enough for barges and little else. On the other, a river that grew so deep in areas no one knew where the bottom was, yet in others, was shallow enough to run across to the other country. The rest of it was against the ocean. Inkwell wasn’t exactly a small nation by any means. It took up a healthy chunk of the continent, and in its’ time of sentience, had evaded invasions of all degrees. Mostly because trying to take over sentient dirt never actually went well, especially if the invaders were brutish in their methods.

Inkwell proudly recalled numerous times it had sent invaders scuttling back to their own boring chunks of dirt.  That isn’t to say it sent everything back. No, it truly did adore the tiny little things that made cute homes and lovely fabrics that were oh so fun to play with. Inkwell loved the things that lived on it deeply, and its children reflected that. But much like any parent, Inkwell loved its children far more than it did the regular creatures. To it, the critters were great, wonderful even, but its children were the best. It went above and beyond for as long as its children did. It protected them, showered them with affection as best it could, and gave them so much power, they could be considered walking armies in magic power alone. As long as they did as they were supposed to, Inkwell would dote on them.

This, in short, meant that thought Inkwell was host to all sorts of things normally deemed lethal by any other nations standards—bears, lions, hippos, all of those were the tip of the iceberg, even the ones that were undead—it didn’t care much beyond ‘cute things still around, children safe, ooh! Look at how pretty this fabric is’.

All in all, that meant Inkwell was one of those places where dipping ones toe into the waters so to speak usually left them sans a toe. It was always better to delve into the crazy. Now, the Lady and Knight, the children of Inkwell, would say other nations were twice as weird. Perhaps even while glaring at a certain direction where they knew a land that played host to some such things as “alphas” and “betas” and that sort. They’d then say they were biased, but that they didn’t really care that they were. Everyone else who’d lived on Inkwell their whole lives would agree. Not a day went by that people were bored that was for sure.

Inkwell tended to act as a haven for the darker creatures other nations either hunted out of fear, or feared outright with no way to combat their abilities. Ghosts, for example, popped up like daisies on Inkwell. Ghosts of all types, mannerisms, personalities, nationalities, all of them showed up at some point. Creatures thought to be myths in other places walked through cities in Inkwell. Others turned it to their new hunting ground, some becoming the hunted.

As it was the Lady’s job to wear pretty things that Inkwell could admire, and settle disputes to avoid war, she had the unfortunate habit of finding such oddities. Luckily for her, the Knight, whose jobs included wearing shiny things Inkwell could admire, also included protecting the Lady, ensuring her image remained that of a harmless, kind soul, rather than an easy target.

On land, that job was easy. Well, all of them were, minus the diplomat bit, grudges could make that job impossible at the best of times. But the whole ‘protecting the lady’ was generally easy. The fact that there were only seventeen throughout over three thousand years, was a testament to that.

All of this, the current Knight, Cuphead, thought. He thought, because he had nothing better to do. Because in doing his job, he’d gotten stuck. Not in a hole, or up a tree, oh no. He’d gotten stuck to a horse. But not any horse, he actually had no idea what it was, but the second his gauntleted hand had touched it, his hand had gotten stuck to its body. Once he’d gotten stuck, he’d warned his sibling away, his sibling, who’d gone from confused to worried to unimpressed to plotting murder.

The horse hadn’t seen the murder, it had only seen that it had caught prey, and it had run off. Cuphead was dragged with it into the nearby lake, and there he sat, staring at the thing that seemed a bit put off that ten minutes later, and Cuphead had yet to drown. Cuphead stared back, yawning to really hammer in how poor a decision it had been to pick him as a victim.

====-====-====-====

It had started exactly as any other day. If that day had Lady Mugs listening to two heads of families rant and rave at one another, screaming for blood. Years upon years of training and tutoring ensured Mugs’ face remained politely neutral. Years and years of being his brother meant Cuphead could see the burning desire to throw the two in a room until they settled down. Or murdered one another, either one would work. Mugs’ didn’t follow through, which Cuphead thought was a tad lame, he would have been up for stabbing a kidney or two if it meant finally getting away from a feud that was steadily building up to a few other family feuds that had gone down negatively in history. Cuphead would have thought that knowing other families got wiped off the face of the planet by arguing the way this family was would have made it so this never became a problem…ever.

But it was.

When the two paused, finally allowing the Lady a word in, Cuphead watched his brother spin verbal magic. He’d seen it time and time again, but it never got old. His brother was so masterful at reading people it was almost second nature to him. On top of that was his weaponized cute. Their mother had been adamant in teaching them to use every avenue given to them to ensure their terms as Lady and Knight were at least long enough for the people of Inkwell to demand another set of royals so she wouldn’t have to craft another pair of children. Meaning she’d taken one single look at Mugs big blue eyes, and cackled.

Mugs could keep people listening simply by batting his lashes, tilting his head, and keeping his voice as soft and sweet as candy floss. He knew what to say well enough that the warring pair could only scowl, finding no real way to argue his points. Cuphead didn’t care what those points were, his job wasn’t settling disputes, and though he was called on sometimes to settle the more rough ones, or some simply preferred speaking to the Knight over the Lady, this was not one of those times. He kept his attention mostly on his sibling, alert for any potential change the others might have. The rest went to examining the field next to a small forest the family had chosen as their neutral zone to meet with the Lady.

If Cuphead remembered correctly, before he tuned out the screaming, both families thought the other was kidnapping family members. Whether that was true or not, Cuphead didn’t particularly care. Mostly because it would be resolved regardless if he cared or not. If they were, the bodies would be found by his brother, and everything would go from there. What he cared more about was the odd feeling he was getting from the lake area. Something was watching them, and he knew it was because when it focused on his brother it would turn hostile, and continue on. It was likely hostile for everyone, but it wasn’t like he could tell beyond what he already knew.

Wandering off wasn’t allowed however, and much as he wanted to just tell them to be quiet, let him and his brother do their thing and move on with other things, he couldn’t. He was fairly certain that the exact second he figured he could wander away from his brothers side when dealing with hostile people, his mother would rise from the ground just to beat him within an inch of his life. Then she’d drag him back to the castle for remedial lessons, and if he knew his brother like he did, Mugs would laugh at him the entire time. He must have emoted his annoyance in some way, the spouse of the wife on one side pointed at him, and his brother’s face took on a decidedly saccharine note.

_‘He’s plotting your murder.’_

_Thank you, Inkwell, I never would have guessed._

_‘There are pointy sticks… a lot of them.’_

“No of course not! You know how Knight’s tend to be, all talk and no action can drive them crazy.” There was sugar in Mugs tone, but fratricide in his eyes. Cuphead was suddenly very glad Mugs couldn’t actually hurt him.

“Oh, I suppose it really would be better if we just let you solve the mystery. Forgive me Lady Inkwell.” The spouse said, scratching their chin. The other family agreed, told them the members always disappeared around the area they were in, sometimes closer to the lake, and never seen again. Both families agreed that the lake was the only similarity in all the kidnappings. The brothers told the families they’d start there, and then, if no answers presented themselves, go to the houses to check for bodies.

The siblings broke off towards the lake not a moment after the agreement went out. The fact that the too sweet smile stayed on Mugs face made Cuphead fear for the next time they visited the castle. His only hope was doing something so impressive his brother would forget the grudge.

He hoped some gremlin or weirdo with a habit to commit murder was the cause of the disappearances so he could try using some flashy tricks. Mugs was always easily distracted by flashy tricks.

====-====-====-====

The lake itself was pretty, with relatively clear light blue water. The flora around it was lush, healthy, and all manner of colors. It was decent in size too, easily a good mile or so wide. The scenery alone would be enough to tempt Cuphead into taking an hour long break there. If it wasn’t for the odd feeling growing the closer they got, he’d have tried to tempt his sibling into relaxing as well, make the family wait a little. Considering the frosty smile he got when he turned his head to look at the other, he wisely kept his mouth shut.

The two looked around the shore, trying to look for any leftover clues. Cuphead scaled the closest tree, aiming to get a bird’s eye view of the ground around the area.

“A horse was here, I think.” One pointed out, gesturing to the hoofprints by the shoreline.

“Yeah, and a few footprints, but why is it going into the water?” The other replied, trying to follow the tracks without ruining them.

“Oh wait, over there! That’s a horse!”

Around a hundred yards away from the siblings, a horse emerged. It was gorgeous, with a smooth black coat so glossy it looked unnatural. That, or to Cuphead, like it was owned by someone who had far too much free time. It had come from the direction of the stream that linked up to the lake, and observed Mugs, who stood closest to the animal. Cuphead immediately perked up, not because it was strange to see such a well-cared for horse with no owner nearby, but because of just how focused it was. Mugs however, cheerfully waved to the animal. The tall grass obscured much of it’s legs, so if there was any sort of marker down lower, like painted hooves, the boys couldn’t see it.

Cuphead debated whether he should scale back down or stay up and let his brother keep its attention. He was certain his shots were faster than it could be, but he wasn’t even sure he wanted his brother getting close enough to be hurt at all. The black ribbon around Mugs’ handle caught his attention, and an idea sprang up.

“Hey Mugs, who do you think is prettier? That horse, or Snoreen?” His voice carried in the clearing, the horse glanced up at him, far too intelligent eyes boring into him. Though his Lady stayed facing him, blue eyes glanced back at the horse without his head moving. So there was something off about the stallion.

“Goodness Cuphead, you know well and good if I said Snoreen was the prettiest, the other horses would have a fit.”

“Well now you have to, I want to see that.”

“I’m sure you would OH MERCY!”

The horse that had been so distant before now stood mere feet from Mugs. The Lady, not expecting it, jumped a foot in the air. Cuphead almost fell from the tree, only saved thanks to quick scrabbling and Inkwell shifting the tree. The horse observed them silently, Cuphead decided he didn’t care to play around. Not when the horse was so unnatural.

He dropped from the tree, letting his swords catch the light of the afternoon sun.

“I’m starting to think we’ve got the culprit.” Cuphead glared at the horse, it stared back, unblinkingly. Mugs stood still, hand hovering above his ribbon.

“Are you sure? For all we know he’s just a regular…oh never mind.” Mugs, who’d been looking the horse up and down for any signs of ownership, finally spied the hooves through the grass. He took a step back, skirts brushing the flora around him.

“What the hell even is it?” Cuphead muttered, loosely gesturing for his brother to return to his side. The horse blinked, taking a step on backwards hooves to follow the porcelain teen. Mugs shrugged, playing with his collar so his hand was close enough to the ribbon he could grab it at a moments notice.

“Couldn’t be worse than a few of the other things we’ve run into. I mean, what if it’s just a creature that wants praise?”

“Then why would there be hoofprints leading into the water, and going out, but not any footprints doing the same?”

“They called it ugly at some point.”

Cuphead stared at his brother, fighting back the laughter that desperately wanted to come out. He knew his brother was simply messing with the thing, though, why Mugs chose to continue playing when Cuphead had shown clear dislike towards it, he didn’t know. Most of the time, when Cuphead—or any knight really—got into a person’s face, their sibling would step back and wait. Since that was the first sign the person or thing was starting to lean towards being hostile. Mugs had to be planning something, but Cuphead was best at thinking on his feet, not playing the long game like his sibling did.

“Well we could test the first bit. Who’s a pretty horse? You are!” Cuphead pitched his voice higher, emulating the many women he’d seen cooing over particularly adorable babies.

The horse squinted at him.

“Yeah I know, he does that better.” Cuphead crossed his arms over his chest, avoiding eye contact. Mugs pressed a hand to his mouth, trying to stifle his giggles and failing miserably.

“What a glossy coat you have, you must be so proud of it.” The Lady smiled sweetly.

The horse stopped squinting at Cuphead. Cuphead scoffed, and began circling the thing, trying to spot any other oddities, all while Mugs continued to praise the horse to the point where it perked up.

Cuphead, already upset the trouble-maker was something as plain as either a shapeshifter that really liked being a horse or a horse that really liked streaking and wanted to hide that side from his family. He was porcelain, he couldn’t tell, and he really didn’t care to.

The Knight pressed his hand against its side, trying to see whether it was a spirit of some sort. The moment his hand touched the horses ribs, it stuck fast to the coat. He blinked, tugged on his had twice, blinked again, and it just went downhill from there.

The horse jerked its head to face him, mouth stretching up wide, far too wide, baring completely intimidating teeth at him in a mockery of a smile. It jerked forward, lunging for Mugs, only for the ribbon on Mug’s handle to jerk the Lady back.

Mugs tried grabbing for the ribbon, staggering with every hasty motion the ribbon made. The horse must have figured it was best off catching one, and turned, darting straight for the lake. The Lady called out for his brother, but the ribbon refused to let him get close enough to grab the horse. Cuphead was dragged along for the ride, instead of freaking out the way his brother was, he was wondering whether the horse had really thought things out.

====-====-====-====

Ten minutes later, the two were staring at one another from the bottom of the lake. Cuphead sighed heavily, leaning his head on his hand, lazily blinking at the stallion. Without opening his mouth, he spoke to it.

“You ever do something and immediately regret it?” Though they were underwater, his voice carried just fine, and the horse glowered at him.

“I mean I’m sure this usually works, but, and I don’t know if you know this, I don’t really need to breathe. Especially not in lakes on Inkwell, speaking of, would you like to know what’s going to happen the second I’m unstuck from you? Inkwell is pretty descriptive all things considered.”

The horse snorted, stamping a backwards hoof down on the bones of a previous victim. They sat rather close to a number of bones, a femur had been digging into Cuphead’s leg for quite a while now and he was getting fed up. But with no assurance that his other hand wouldn’t get stuck on the thing, he didn’t feel like trying to pry his hand off.  He wasn’t too worried though, not when he knew his brother was top side, likely scheming some brutal torture for the thing. So, for the time being, he did what he did best, annoy the ever loving mercy out of things.

“So any way, there I am, two years old right? Of course I don’t remember it, but ma tells this story to all the new workers. So I’m two, and my brother is one, and we’re chatting away in baby talk, I don’t know what I was saying but Mugs was laughing, of course he was, it was me, and I’m funny.”

The horse gave him a deadpan stare, clearly wondering whether braining itself on one of the nearby rocks would be in its best interest. It was out of luck if it thought it could wait for him to drown. Inkwell would simply get rid of the lake if it really needed. But as the lake had been part of Inkwell for a while, it too held a bit of the magic making up the land, meaning his soul liquid didn’t react as it usually would have. Where he would have had an hour at best in the ocean or any rivers, in lakes and ponds, he had three to four hours.

He’d make the damn thing regret not letting him go.

“He’s laughing, and then this nurse comes in, says I’m due for my bath and she picks me up. Well apparently, and my ma had been watching from a chair in the corner this whole time. She said the nurse picked me up, took a step away, and Mugs starts sniffling. She said she’d never seen Mugs go from happy to upset so fast but… so he’s sniffling and making grabby hands at me. The nurse tells him ‘no no, he’s due for a bath little Lady, I’ll return him soon’. She didn’t even get the whole of ‘soon’ out before Mugs just started crying, big fat tears. Ma said it was when he let out a whine that she knew to take cover. Apparently Inkwell broke all the windows. Nurse put me down so fast you’d think I was on fire or something.”

The horse’s ears perked up, clearly thinking the end of the story was the end of the chatter.

It wasn’t.

====-====-====-====

Forty minutes later, Cuphead was regaling the horse with the time he was four years old, while fending off all attempts the horse made to bite his arm off. His swords made for great deterrents.

“I used to wear corsets too, but ma figured once my posture was fixed up I didn’t need it any more. Mugs though, he had to wear them almost all the time. I know he complains, but I think he’s just being a drama queen.  I’ve seen how some ladies tighten theirs, and they aren’t even porcelain! He still wears them too, has to until he’s a bit older. Otherwise he might lose the figure he has and that’ll just make wearing dresses an absolute pain.”

The horse tried for his hand for the fifth time, and for the fifth time, Cuphead stabbed it on the nose. His hand remained firmly in place.

====-====-====-====

“I used to lead my brother on excursions around the castle. See I was trying to get him used to walking so I could keep an eye on him without losing out on exploration time. Well this time, I was confident he was fast enough now so I ran on ahead so I could scout out the territory. I turn around, and he isn’t there! I panicked of course, Inkwell panicked, because I was panicking and it couldn’t really figure out why. Ma says I was crying loud enough that half the castle heard me, but I’m too tough for that, so I don’t believe her. Anyway, who do you think finds me? Mugs! He just toddles on over from some side room, and I know he was trying to hug me but he trips on the rug and smashes his face into mine and that’s how ma found us. She said we both got cracks on our faces, makes me real glad we don’t scar.”

The horse began banging its head on the rock beside it.

====-====-====-====

“Showed a little bit too much for the time, and that’s why ma put the fear of Mugs wearing anything modern or ‘showy’ into us. Ladies nowadays just wear whatever was in fashion a couple of decades or more ago.  Then there was that—”

“Oh you poor thing, has he been tormenting you?”

“Mugs! What took you so…you changed?”

The Lady looked down at his new outfit, a blue, cotton bathing suit, and looked back up at Cuphead with a lone eyebrow arched up.

“Cuphead, the dress I was wearing is wool, would you care to remind me what happens when wool meets water? Here’s a hint, look at your gambeson.” Cuphead obeyed, looking at his far thicker sleeves. “So yes, I did change. I also told the family, and Uncle Cagney is playing rock paper scissors with Inkwell to decide who gets to send this fellow into the sun. I came down to make sure you weren’t injured.”

“I was telling him about the time I was throwing acorns at a squirrel, accidentally hit you, and spent ten minutes getting scolded by a tree.” The Lady put his hands on his hips, sighing into the water. He picked up a bone, tapping the broken end of it with a finger, eyes half-lidded, taking in the defeated slope to the horses’ head.

“You know,” Mugs shifted his weight to one side. “If you just let us cut his hand off, or let him go, we’d probably let you live. Might even put you in a river on the border. Plenty of victims in that area.”

The horse, despite being underwater, almost seemed to break out into a sweat, watching the other with trepidation. It glanced at the stuck hand, then at the Lady, then the Knight, and flopped over, exposing the area better.

“Good choice, Uncle Cagney was rather creative in his ideas for avenging his ‘shiny nephew’.”

Cuphead took out his short sword, and got to work, grumbling all the while about being described as shiny of all things.

====-====-====-====

“I can’t believe you talked it into submission.” Mugs twisted the skirt, trying to get the water out as best he could. The families watched the horse follow the stream up and out.

“It wasn’t them?” A woman pointed to another on the other side. Mugs nodded, gesturing to the numerous bones that had come up along with them when Cagney fetched them from the water. Cuphead kept giving Cagney the stink eye while water poured from his gambeson. His brigandine tried helping, squeezing around where it sat until his porcelain creaked, trying to remove the water.

“Well then… I suppose an apology is in order.”

“Indeed it is.”

No one made to speak first.

Cagney coughed into his hand.

Mugs gained a rather frosty smile, Inkwell rumbled, and the apologies flew faster than anyone could keep up with. It was enough.

Far below, all the horses in hell gathered. A chart with the poorly drawn picture of a black horse was placed on a rock acting as a stage. The hell-horses weren’t sure whether the blue one meant it when he praised that horse so much. What they were sure of, was that only _they_ could be the most dashing, and thus, the war between kelpies and hell-horses began.

A hell-horse with a tiny skull on its head acting as a helmet smacked a stick into the image, pointing it at the heart, and neighed sharply. Hell watched it all, wondering whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. Ultimately, it decided it didn’t really care, so it went back to watching its own child make a fool of himself in front of his wife.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kelpies are pretty popular in media. So I'll just say i stuck with one of the many versions of it. A horse that can sometimes shapeshift into a human form, this one didn't of course, but they can. They lure victims into either touching them or getting on their backs, then, once the person is magically glued to them, they ride off into the drink and leave entrails to scatter along the shore. I don't think many would have any experience in unsticking a victim, which means that poor thing was stuck listening to Cuphead ramble about anything and everything, unhindered. 
> 
> I think just about anyone would have gone batty. A bit more silly than the last one, but Kelpies don't have that much in the way of offing someone who can't really drown. At least, not that I found.


	5. Kraken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bragging can be done by anyone, riiiight up until someone better comes along.

One of the many things known about Inkwell was that in all the world, not a soul was better, stronger, or more knowledgeable in necromancy. The Lady was the undefeated champion of that area of magic thousands of years and going. It was impossible to truly measure their strength simply because of _how_ powerful they were. That, and they varied. One Lady could walk into a graveyard and bring back the cemetery one town over as well.

One notable incident was a Lady’s Knight falling to a stray attack from a visiting country. He’d had a hole blown in his chest before anyone even recognized the hidden weapon the country had brought over. They’d apparently been hoping to take over the country by offing the children of Inkwell first. What they failed to take into consideration was just how bad a move that was. The Lady, one who, before that, had shown average magic strength. She’d even seemed to be one of the weaker Ladies. But on that day, while taking in the broken form of her brother, listening as the visiting prince celebrated their success, as a few soldiers approached her, swords drawn, ready to cut her head off, she _reacted._

Some say her rage eclipsed Inkwells. That it was her scream of devastated rage and not Inkwells. Whatever the source, no one questioned who called down green and yellow lighting all across the country. The entirety of Inkwell’s dead rose all at once, from border to border, answering her call. The prince, once excited in the success, was the last one left alive, only so he could see countless dead tear apart him, cross the river, descend on the awaiting soldiers, rend the army from just about all planes of existence, before coming for him. The Lady hadn’t lived even a second after the prince died, falling beside her brother, magic tearing her apart from the inside out.

Inkwell had been rather frosty after that, not allowing anyone to cross that border for a good century. Several Ladies later, with more stopgaps to prevent that exact overload from ever happening again, a new Lady watched a new group of mages gloat. Lady Mugs hadn’t been too sure what to make of the people demanding he show himself so they could show him what true necromancy was. Cuphead figured it was someone wanting to test their strength against Mugs, something that happened with every Lady.

“A bit early though, last pair got a good ten years of wandering around first.” The Knight shrugged, completely relaxed as the ocean washed over the shore below the road they were on. His brother had wandered away for a little while, but neither he nor Inkwell told Cuphead the reason for demanding he stay on the road.  Mugs returned the motion, adjusting the lace flowing from red silk sleeves. Cuphead didn’t really question it beyond one early on, when he returned, the edges of his gown soaked with salt water. Whatever the reason for the mischievous gleam, it was bound to be funny no matter what.

The group could be seen off in the distance, on the outskirts of a large town. Cuphead wondered if it was going to be like when that candy necromancer claimed to be the Lady. Then he wondered how many corpses the town had. Then he wondered how boring his life would have been if he was some average porcelain type living an average life where thoughts of corpse body count wasn’t a normal thing. He decided he’d probably have done something stupid just to get away from the boredom and it was better for all involved that he was standing in a brigandine gifted to him by Hell, listening to Inkwell babble about chickens.

The moment they greeted the group, Cuphead, as well as some townsfolk who’d heard about the demands, took in the stark contrast between one Necromancer and the others. There stood his brother, elegant as much as a fourteen-year-old could be, in a rather eye-catching gown that mimicked the sunset with the reds and oranges and pinks. Then, across from them, was the group, donning dark clothing, some with robes, others with hooded jackets. They greeted the Lady, polite but curt.

“Legends of how Inkwell’s necromancer is the strongest has spread across the globe, as we’re sure you’re aware.”

“I don’t leave the border of Inkwell so no. I wasn’t aware, but thank you for telling me.” Cuphead perked up. He wasn’t a necromancer, didn’t have that magic in him. His own magic was more Inkwell than anything else, and certainly didn’t revive the dead, only made the living become dead, or made the dead, deader. Which meant that he couldn’t sense near the amount of things his sibling could. Mugs was far more tuned to magic than he was, which was fine to Cuphead, he preferred knowing what a person was thinking to knowing what magic was whispering, especially magic like necromancy. The fact that Mugs was going straight past ‘cute and unassuming’ and into ‘mistakes are about to be made and I’m more than fine with watching the fallout, do continue.’ Spoke volumes.

The group remained unphased, far too excited for something to care.

“Well now, we know you are quite strong on your own, however, we’ve decided that true strength in necromancy revolves around strength in numbers. You may be strong, but we can revive something you can’t on your own.”

“Of course, this is simply to say the crown you and those under the title simply don’t deserve such a silly thing.”

“Are you asking our Lady to forfeit the worlds strongest necromancer title? Why?” A towns member called out, scratching their head in confusion.

“She’s not. That is patently false. Necromancy is necromancy, our magic is all the same, so there’s no true way for one to be stronger than the others.”

No one but Cuphead caught the lilt in Mugs smile changing.

Cuphead considered that a good thing.

He also hoped Cagney could see things through Inkwell’s eyes or whatever it was, because he wasn’t that great at describing ensuing fallout.

“Fair point indeed, so then, with all…fifteen of you?” The group nodded, well aware Mugs was a bit on the shorter side what with his age. “Surely you’ve got something impressive lined up? I must say I’m not too willing to give up a title without seeing just how hopeless it is in the face of fifteen magic equals.” There was the cute, the sweet smile, the innocent tilt of the head, the laughter well hidden in actually evil eyes…

“You’d be correct! We prepared for this, with five nights worth of scouring the ocean for the grandest beast we could find. Something you couldn’t possibly beat! At least, not without having more than yourself to revive the beast.” The air took on a far colder feel, fog began to roll in from the sea as a low hum filled the air. Cuphead, and many others, weren’t used to outside brands of necromancy. Plenty of necromancers did indeed roam Inkwell, but it was uncommon for the more modern version to be used. Most often, it was the ancient version Inkwell used since the beginning.

No lightning signaled the soul call. No green and yellow magic illuminated the world around them for a brief moment. It was simply a hum that grew louder, to the point where many with sensitive ears covered them. Then a rumbling off the coast, and the water burst up like a geyser. A thing, much like an octopus but easily the size of half the town rose quite dramatically, looming over the cliffside. It stank of rot, both brothers promptly stopped breathing entirely right about the second the water moved. The rest nearby weren’t quite as lucky, though a vulture did lick her lips without realizing it.

The group looked winded, some who were standing tall before now slouched where they stood, but all looked smug. All were pleased to note the gasp, the dainty glove covered hand rising to cover a quaint little frown, the startled, wide eyes. Cuphead and Inkwell both wondered just how bad it was that Mugs was learning quite a bit from King Dice.

“Well goodness, I had no idea that was off our coast! Such a fierce looking beast!” The thing blinked eyes the size of a shed at the group. “I suppose I should at least try to top that? But, gosh, I’m not sure…” Mugs drifted off as lightning crackled in the air. It was the way he was avoiding looking at Cuphead that told the brother in armor exactly how badly his sibling didn’t deserve the world calling him cute. He wasn’t cute, at all, he was a devious gremlin.

“By all means! Why, we’ll even give you a week to find something more grand, this did take us as long to find after all, and we—”

“No need. I’m quite certain we’re close enough to her that she’ll hear me.” Mugs held his hand up, the ground hissed as green and yellow pulsed in a steady beat from Mugs, sinking into the ground after a few feet. It grew silent, no humming, no mumbled chanting, no pressure, even the fog dissipated.

In the distance, Cuphead could see Cagney peeking over a building, holding a cornstalk, munching away at it much to the displeasure of a farmer.

The world went on as usual, if a giant kraken gazing at them all with rotten eyes was usual. Which, to the fish in the ocean below, Cuphead figured that was indeed normal. One of the group members opened their mouth, smugness oozing from them and the rest.

“Oh come now, it’s not every day you find…” They drifted off as something made the Kraken look away from them, towards the sea below. It shuddered, but none could see past the tentacles that held it up on the shore. The cliffside it was on angled off too sharply, dropping straight into the water a hundred or so meters down. Then it let out a screech so loud Cuphead feared he’d shatter. It wailed, thrashing, trying to pull itself further out of the ocean. The group panicked, Cuphead reached for his brother, intent on dragging him away, but he didn’t get the chance.

An arm, flesh green, bones peeking out from flesh devoured by the sea life gnawing on various spots, rose from behind it. Fingers with impressively sharp nails dug deep into the slick skin of the Kraken, blood, or whatever passed as blood after however long underwater being dead, poured from the gouges. The thing was dragged back underwater with one final wail, tearing trees from the ground, ripping a nearby fence apart. The entire time, Mugs didn’t react. He didn’t radiate smugness like the group had, simply, amusement.

The water below crashed and rippled with something flat out massive moving underwater erratically.

The interesting thing about Mugs, or not truly interesting so much as notable, was that—as a child, he’d once thrown a tantrum, just a little tantrum no one was sure the cause for. He’d stomped his little feet, face flushed a bright blue, and then, every single corpse in the capitol city was bursting from the ground. Or out of coffins for some families in the process of burying their loved ones, which made the jokes being told over the coffins a bit sour. The castle was stormed on all fronts, and instead of going after what had threatened the Lady, the dead had simply milled about, content to simply be in the building. Though, when they collapsed a minute later like puppets with cut strings, the workers who had to find the graves for each corpse were far less content. Mugs refused to talk about it, then he forgot about it, and Inkwell was flat out useless to ask. It ignored all questions pertaining to it, even when they had Cuphead ask.

This wasn’t the most impressive show of force a Lady had ever done, many did something close, it was the fact that he was too young to even talk, far younger than many Ladies even started learning how to use what Inkwell gave them. Only two other Ladies ever showed something like it, one being Chalice. Some speculated the power rose or fell based on the personality, and the species. Though, with something ever changing as the Lady, each one tweaked and adjusted to ensure a longer, more successful life, it was impossible to truly tell.

Now though? Cuphead wondered if that tantrum was simply just Inkwell goading Mugs into showing off.

Cala Maria rose from the sea, covered in bits of Kraken, teeth bared in a gruesome smile, showing just what happened to the thing that wasn’t rising along side her. She eclipsed the Kraken’s impressive size with ease, her torso alone easily the size of the entire town.  She gazed down on all of them briefly before choosing to focus on Mugs.

“I hope you know I want to have a rematch with Brineybeard before you send me back.” She let one finger tap the ground, nail burrowing deep into the surface. Mugs nodded cheerfully. “That was pathetic, the thing didn’t even remember how to crush something. You should all be ashamed, I’ve had better fights against sailors than that thing.”

“Isn’t that a kraken on your head?”

“No, this is Sea. She’s far better than those slimy things. Ever compare her like that again and I’ll demand you apologize.” Cala squinted at Cuphead who nodded in acquiescence.

“So… yay for friendship I suppose?” Mugs shifted his weight to one side, fingertips pressed together by his waist in prim delight. The group, stunned silent, weakly nodded. “Though I’m positive should you have found something like a leviathan I’d be in a spot of trouble.” Cala Maria huffed, leaning over the group to eye them disdainfully.

“Hardly, I ate one of those too. You have a shiny thing, one in the center, don’t think I don’t see that. I recognize that thing too, Brineybeard has ten of those. So before you make a horrible mistake, just know I will be sure to destroy you, and then when you inevitably die, feast on your souls so that none will remember you. And if you think Hell will stop me, hate to tell you but it’s the one that’s been offering up particularly annoying sea souls. That’s right, shuffle away, get closer to the forest spirit, that’ll end even better.”

“I have a great throwing arm.”

There was much screaming as Cagney rose from the ground much as Cala had risen from the sea. Dramatically, with much flair, and dripping just as much disdain as water—or in Cagney’s case—dirt.

“I can only guess another country is getting invasion thoughts in their head.” Cala Maria rested her arm between the teens and the group, covering them entirely from view. The townsfolk however, had a perfect view. One they’d use to add to the brags they'd have about what went down for years.

“Our Lady was so smart and strong he outwitted a group before he even met them!”

“Our Lady got a forest spirit and a mermaid to strike terror into a group who thought to remove a threat. Best we could understand was they were here to test how strong our Lady was and if he was stronger, he was to be killed. Quite silly really, we never have this problem with our other neighbors.”

“Our Lady looks so cute in that pirate costume! Oh, and the Knight is simply endearing!”

“Martha, we have corpses on our crops.”

“Bit of water will sort that out. Get the camera Harold!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why yes, this is a not so subtle dig at "friendship is power!" Always thought if someone was a master of something, they shouldn't be beaten by some dude screaming about homies having his back.  
> Krakens, a popular creature often appearing in media across the board. From Pirates of the Caribbean to stories aged so badly they have to be specially stored to prevent their pages from crumbling. Often appearing as a squid or an octopus, they are generally just unbelievably large sea creatures that feast on sailors. Cala Maria simply happens to be bigger, and hungry.   
> Not having a minimum word count makes this quite easy and fun to write!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not opposed to any creatures anyone else might know of. I've got a few on the list, and certainly it won't just be the lady and knight running into the critters, I'll decide who would be better suited to interacting with the creature. Or if i want to write it again, this time running into someone else. If you couldn't figure out what this one was, don't hesitate to ask. Or google it...either or.


End file.
